


Glorious: Book 1

by Froglady15



Series: Glorious: Book One [1]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Adultery, Arranged Marriage, Complicated Relationships, Developing Relationship, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Romance, Sex, So Wrong It's Right, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-20 12:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 78,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froglady15/pseuds/Froglady15
Summary: My 2018 Vegebulocracy Big Bang Challenge Submission.Based in the 1870's, an eighteen-year-old Bulma is married off in an arranged marriage to the handsome Yamcha, who is 20 years older than she is. Despite not being happy with her mother's pushing her into this marriage, she goes along with it. Bored, isolated from everyone and everything she knows and feeling emotionally neglected, she eventually ends up finding companionship and solace in Vegeta, a friend and fellow former war comrade of Yamcha's with the reputation of being a notorious womanizer who is equally as unhappy in his own marriage as Bulma is with hers. How long can their secret affair go on before the consequences of their actions propels them into an even more complicated and impossible situation?Artwork by the wonderful and talented Sbubbia.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my submission for the Vegebulocracy Big Bang Challenge.
> 
> Huge shout out to @sbubbia, the talented artist I was randomly paired up with. She’s created two beautiful pieces of artwork to accompany this story. I cannot wait to eventually share that with you all as well! 
> 
> And a big thank you to @bulmaseekingvegeta for being my beta. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cover art by the amazing Sbubbia!

**Disclaimer:**   I don’t own anything. Just my Husband, laptop, my 2 Boxers, a Schipperke/monster thing and a very overactive imagination… Dragon Ball Z DOES NOT belong to me. I’m just borrowing the characters for my own twisted amusement.

 

**_Glorious_ **

_**Rose tinted view, and satellites that compromise the truth.** _

_**But I wanted more, with the cuts and the bruises.** _  
_**Touch my face, a hopeless embrace.** _

_**Faith.** _  
_**It drives me away, but it turns me on,** _  
_**like a stranger's love.** _

_**It rockets through the universe, it fuels the lies and feeds the curse** _  
_**and leads me to be glorious.** _

_**I need to believe,** _  
_**but I still want more, with the cuts and the bruises.** _  
_**Don't close the door on what you adore.** _

_**And faith.** _  
_**It drives me away, but it turns me on,** _  
_**like a stranger's love.** _

_**It rockets through the universe, it fuels the lies and feeds the curse** _

_**And leads me to be…** _  
_**Glorious** _

_**Glorious- Muse** _

 

**_Chapter 1_ **

Bulma Briefs was always lonely. Ever since she’d been a child. She was the youngest daughter in a family of two daughters. Her older sister, Tights, was so much older than she was that by the time Bulma had been old enough to be interesting, Tights had been married off to some duke far, far away.

Having no one else to associate with, Bulma managed to find her own amusement fixing broken household items and assisting her father with many of his projects when she was allowed. Her mother discouraged her from that as much as possible. It apparently wasn’t acceptable for a lady to learn to do anything besides poetry, sewing, singing and playing the piano.

It seemed she’d been doomed from the start that she hated to be alone, craving the companionship of another, even if that other person was her father with whom she was very close. That dependency on companionship would lead to her eventual downfall.

She was feeling melancholy for no particular reason the day she’d been informed that Yamcha would be her future husband. He was a kind and incredibly handsome man, twenty years older than she herself was, though he had aged gracefully and appeared much younger than he actually was. He was a well-respected and high ranking general in the military at one time, with ambitious political aspirations now. He had come for a visit, looking for investors to help him start his political campaign.

Many years ago, before Bunny had married Trunks Briefs, she had been betrothed to Yamcha. He’d loved her fiercely and the feeling had been mutual. However he had been sent to war and her mother’s parents had received a better offer and so they had married her off to Trunks Briefs, a very wealthy, highly successful and innovative inventor. She’d had no cause for complaint. Mr. Briefs was a doting husband, showering his spouse with every luxury imaginable and so over the years, she’d gotten over her first love and put all her efforts into having a successful marriage and raising two beautiful daughters.

Yamcha, however had never married. He had been completely heartbroken over the ordeal and had never quite recovered from it enough to even give another woman a second glance or even a chance to win his heart. He kept in touch with Mrs. Briefs over the years, calling on her every once in a while if he happened to be in town and she was always generous enough to entertain him for an afternoon. Bulma knew of him and vaguely of the history he and her mother had shared many years ago, but she did not know him well.    

It was on that day that her mother had summoned her from her father’s workshop on a project she had been assisting him with to have lunch with her and her old friend Yamcha. Bulma had thought it was odd, as she was never usually asked to attend or visit with Yamcha whenever he did come for a visit, however she never said no to her mother’s demands.

“You are looking quite the mess,” her mother criticized the moment she walked into the sitting room. Her plain, grey dress was dirty at the hem and her hair was falling out of the loose bun she’d put it up in that morning. “Could you not have taken a moment and done something with yourself? My apologies, Yamcha, I can assure you, she is quite the proper lady, _most_ of the time.”

“That’s quite alright,” he replied nicely, standing up to greet Bulma. “I find it rather amusing. I am sure sewing and reading all day like you fine ladies do gets quite boring after a while.”

"I suppose,” Mrs. Briefs nodded, though still somewhat embarrassed by her daughter. She had just turned eighteen and had not had any offers of marriage as of yet, though she could understand why. Her other daughter, Tights, on the other hand had received many offers from the time she had been fifteen years of age and it had been difficult to decide who an appropriate match for her would be once she’d become of age. Yamcha had been the only one even remotely interested in Bulma and that had been because Mrs. Briefs had begun planting and nurturing that seed for the last few years. It was highly unlikely that anyone else of high stature would be interested in her youngest daughter with her tomboyish and somewhat unrefined ways. Yamcha at least could be trusted to care for her daughter and would ensure she would always be well provided for. Also, it would alleviate her conscience somewhat for choosing her husband over him all those years ago. While Bunny _claimed_ she did not retain any old romantic feelings towards Yamcha, she did not regret her choice, but she did still feel guilty for how it had been handled by her parents and herself. He had not deserved to find out that their engagement had been broken off by finding out she’d been married off the next time he’d seen her.

“Bulma, I’d like you and Yamcha to get better acquainted, for you are to be married at the end of the month,” her mother abruptly informed her. She wasn’t one for wasting time. “I cannot think of anything more glorious than a July wedding!”

“Excuse me?” Bulma asked, trying to be polite despite the shock, wondering if she had heard her mother correctly. Bulma didn’t really have any interest in getting married. She was quite happy to stay here with her father and assist him with his inventions.

“We are to be married,” Yamcha said to her with a soft smile, walking slowly up to her and presenting her with an obscene diamond ring.

“My goodness,” Bulma exclaimed, looking at the frightful thing being held out to her, knowing full well she was expected to take it, accept it and be happy about it.

“Isn’t it stunning?” Mrs. Briefs gushed, strolling across the room to get a better look at the engagement ring.

“It is,” Bulma conceded, not knowing what else to say. It was beautiful and she knew that any other girl in the world would be over the moon to be offered such an extravagant engagement ring. Inwardly however, she was cringing. She had always thought Yamcha was a pleasant man, however he was much too old for her. What could they possibly have in common? Not to mention, she knew he still held deep feelings for her mother.  

Yamcha stayed for a little while longer before making his departure; he still had several calls to make that day with regards to his campaign.

“I cannot marry him,” she said to her mother almost immediately after Yamcha had left; she could still see his departing figure on his horse riding away from their home.  

“Why ever not?” her mother asked in shock. “Yamcha is wonderful! I can’t think of any reason why you wouldn’t want to marry him. God knows no one else wants to marry you,”

“He’s too old, mother!” she cried. “We have nothing in common!”

“You don’t _need_ anything in common to make a marriage work, dear,” her mother shrugged, pouring her daughter and herself a glass of wine. “I had nothing in common with your father when we were married, and he was twelve years older than I was.”

“Twelve years, not twenty!” she pointed out. “Besides, so what if no one wants to marry me right now. What if I don’t _want_ to be married?”

“Bulma, you’ll marry Yamcha and be happy enough with him,” her mother said sternly. “I will not do this to him again and break off another engagement.”

“Great,” Bulma deadpanned. “Sacrifice your daughter to keep your ex fiance happy, thanks mother.”

“You _will_ be happy with Yamcha!” her mother insisted. “He absolutely _adores_ you! He’ll make sure you are very well taken care of for the rest of your life, you’ll want for nothing.”

“Except love,” she said sourly into her wine glass.

“What was that?”

“Love!” she repeated firmly.

“ _Love,_ ” her mother scoffed. “Love is something that evolves over time. I understand how you feel right now, I too was very angry with my parents when they made me marry your father instead of Yamcha. It broke my heart initially, but soon I realized what a good man your father is and I couldn’t help but fall in love with him. He’s kind, successful; has a good reputation and is financially set, we have an amazing home, had two _beautiful_ daughters together. What more could one want for? You may not believe me, Bulma, but in time you will realize that I am setting you up for success for a happy and very prosperous life.

“With his status and position, you will have achieved more in your eighteen years than most woman hope for by the age of forty. You’ll be a baroness and rise far and above me too! It is the perfect match, you’ll see that in time. Besides, with Yamcha you won’t be lonely. We _all_ know how your biggest fear is being alone. You should be thankful, not complaining.”

Bulma sighed, but said no more and instead drank her wine. Arguing with her mother was fruitless.

* * *

 Yamcha had called again the next day and the two had spent the afternoon together walking in her mother’s vast gardens on the property. It was the ideal romantic setting for a young couple to spend the day, however it was awkward for the two of them; neither one knew what to say to the other.

Over the past few hours, Bulma had come to learn for herself that Yamcha was indeed a sweet, thoughtful and caring man and very much the proper gentleman, but, just as she suspected, they had nothing in common; she loved to read books on engineering and design and build things, he preferred to study history and art and talk about the battles he’d been in and his many travels, smoke cigars and drink his whiskey. Bulma had never been anywhere far from home, so she couldn’t relate, nor did she enjoy whisky and she hated cigars. He wasn’t mechanically inclined, so would simply smile and nod when she started telling him about some of the projects she was working on with her father.

“I regret that I will be leaving again first thing in the morning and will not be returning until the day before the wedding,” he apologized to her. 

“Duty calls,” she shrugged somewhat, not knowing what else to say as panic flooded her. She had been relieved when he’d shown up to see her in an effort to get to know her and she assumed that he would be sticking around for at least a week or two so they could have some sort of courtship before being married.

Apparently not.

“Do not worry,” he reassured her. “I have written down my itinerary so you will know where I am expected to be. I will write you daily and all I ask is one letter a week in reply from you if are able.”

Bulma bit back a heavy sigh of frustration. It was not ideal, but she could see that despite his work taking him away from trying to get to know his new bride, he was doing his best to make the effort to keep in touch with her. Perhaps communicating by letter would be a better way for them to get to know each other than in person, where she felt she had nothing of interest to say to him because he was the one with all the interesting stories and all she had to talk about was her home and whatever project she and her father were working on. “Yes, I will write to you,” she agreed, taking the piece of paper he handed her of the addresses of where he would be lodging.

“Please send your personal things to my estate,” he added. “The address is there as well, however your mother also knows. If there is anything specific you would like for me to acquire on my travels that will add to your comfort in my home, please do not hesitate to ask. I want you to feel comfortable after the move, it will be your home too.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a smile. “If I think of anything, I will be sure to let you know.”

“Please do,” he said sincerely. “Also, a big reason for my swift departure is to get as much done now so we may become better acquainted after the wedding. I will be taking six weeks off just to spend with you. I thought a honeymoon in Italy might make you happy.”

“Italy?” she asked in surprise. “I’ve always wanted to go to Italy and see Sorrento and Venice and Rome,”

“Yes, I know,” he grinned. “Your mother told me,”

Again, she bit back a heavy sigh of frustration. She couldn’t help but feel like the whole courtship, engagement, marriage and honeymoon experience had nothing to do with her and she were nothing more than am obligatory participant. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said.

“As will I,” he nodded, happy that she seemed content with the decision. “I have not taken a vacation since I could not tell you when the last time was. I look forward to spending it with you,”

“Well,” she said with a smile. “This will be my first vacation _ever_ , so I suppose it will be a wonderful time for us both.”

“It will,” he smiled back. “I have so many places to show you. I have been all over Italy many times, however it has always been for business, not leisure.”

“I’ll look forward to it, Yamcha,” she said. “And I will respond if you write to me,”

“I surely will,” he promised. “I will make it a priority.”

They said their goodbyes a little while later and Bulma wasn’t sure how to feel, knowing she would not see him again until their wedding. She did hope that he would keep his promise and write to her so she would not feel like she was marrying a complete stranger a month from now, the beginning of July.


	2. Chapter 2

True to her mother’s promise, expectations and happiness, and much to Bulma’s dismay, wedding preparations were in full swing by the next day and before she knew it, it three weeks had passed and there was only one week remaining before she would be married.

True to his word, Yamcha had written her daily. Some letters were long, some short, but she appreciated them most days. Other days, she only saw them as a cold reminder that she was about to commit her life to this person she still barely knew despite back and forth letter writing. For the first two weeks she had responded to Yamcha, she’d written him back more than the once a week he’d asked of her, however it had been over a week since she’d replied. It wasn’t anything personal, she just felt she had nothing to say to him. She brushed it off and justified it by telling herself she was too busy with wedding planning to even have a minute to spare to sit down and write a letter, though she knew that wasn’t true.

“Are you entirely certain you don’t want to try your dress on one last time, dear?” her mother asked as she brought in the mail. “It arrived about two hours ago,”

“I’m sure it’s fine, mother,” Bulma replied in a near monotone. If one good thing was to come of the wedding finally happening, it would be that she would be rid of her mother’s constant fussing and nagging over the ordeal. Not that she was looking forward to leaving her parents, that part she refused to dwell on for any length of time. However her mother was getting on her nerves with this constant wedding business.

“Are you sure? I don’t understand why you aren’t the least bit interested in anything to do with your own wedding,” she sighed, looking through the mail. “Your sister was much more excited and involved… Oh look! A letter from Yamcha!”

“My sister had six months to get used to the idea she was getting married,” she replied sourly, snatching the letter from her mother’s insistent hands. “Her husband to be also came to visit her every weekend so they weren’t complete strangers.”

“You and Yamcha aren’t _complete_ strangers, dear,” her mother said. “He’s visited on and off for years now. Plus you two are writing each other; which by the way I haven’t seen a letter from you to him in some time now, is there a reason for that?”

Bulma sighed, “He came as _your_ friend to see _you,_ not me.”

“Still, you know him,” she brushed off. “Speaking of which, what does Yamcha have to say today?”

She held in a sigh of annoyance. She really didn’t _care_ what Yamcha had to say today. Though she knew he mother would nag her until she opened it up and read it to her; and so she finally opened it up and read it.

“Well? What does it say?” her mother pressed and that was another annoyance of hers; her mother _insisted_ on reading every letter between them so nothing was private.

Bulma didn’t reply, but finished the letter herself before handing it to her mother. “No, I want _you_ to read it to me, dear,”

Bulma sighed, but obliged her mother.

_Dear Bulma,_

_I hope all is well and I imagine you are more than busy at the moment, preparing for our wedding day, as I have noticed that as the day draws closer, the less frequent your letters seem to be. Just know that my thoughts are always with you, I am very happy and I am very much looking forward to seeing you again and this time taking you back with me as my wife and life partner._

_I received word just yesterday that the majority of your things have arrived at my home in Straslund and are being set up and arranged as I write this, or I suppose you read this. Baba and Roshi, my personal house staff whom I will tell you all about on our travels, are also very excited to meet you and have you with us. They have also made arrangements and sent out invitations to those in the community as a belated celebration of our marriage and homecoming for you, as it is too far a distance and too short notice for most of them to attend our wedding._

_I also stopped by an immaculate jewelry shop in Milan yesterday that has the most incredible jewelry. I look forward to bringing you back with me where we shall choose the most exquisite for you, of course, my beautiful bride!_

_Please send my warmest regards to your parents._

_All my love, my sweet bride,_

_Yamcha_

“Isn’t that just the sweetest?” Mrs. Briefs gushed. “Tomorrow we will go out and find the _perfect_ dress for you to wear for your debut celebration as Yamcha’s wife when you arrive at your new home! Be sure to write him back, Bulma. He’s been so kind as to keep his word in writing you every day. The least you could do is reward him with a letter once a week as he asked. God knows he’s insanely busy with his schedule and he still finds the time and he clearly loves you dearly.”

“I’ll write him back, mother,” she answered, standing up to leave.

“Where are you going?” her mother asked.

“To go and see what father is doing and if he needs any help,” she answered.

“I thought you were going to write Yamcha back,”

“And I will,” she said.

“Then why are you leaving to go see your father?” she asked in confusion.

“I don’t need to write him _this_ second, do I?” she snipped. “It’s long past the time for the mail to be sent out so it won’t be taken until tomorrow anyway,”

“I suppose,” her mother sighed, but she could tell from her tone she wasn’t happy she wasn’t sitting down to write her reply to Yamcha immediately. “Be sure that you don’t forget and do it later this evening,”

“Yes, Mother,” Bulma replied and left. She sighed deeply, physically shaking herself off as she made it outside her parent’s home. She’d felt trapped and cluster phobic. All she wanted to do was scream. Scream and throw herself on the ground and pitch a tantrum like she might have when she was a little girl.

Instead of walking into her father’s work shop, she walked right passed it when she reached it and continued down to the other side of the property. She had no real destination in mind, just needed to be alone and not hear a word about Yamcha or the wedding or moving to some obscure, small town outside Berlin of which she’d never heard of.

She walked through the trees and near a creek she loved to sit and think and daydream. It had been a long while since she’d come out all this way, but she frequently came out there in her youth when her father had insisted she’d been too young to assist him with his work. When she was lonely, she’d come out to the creek and make up scenarios where she’d build a raft out of the trees and mud; braid the thin twigs and sticks to hold it all together and leave her home for an adventure to wherever the creek carried her. It wasn’t too deep, but it seemed to go a long way down into the neighbour’s property. She assumed it had to join up to a large river or maybe even the sea at some point.

She’d think about discovering a new land or settling down someplace where she could become a famous inventor like her father. She’d have employees and helpers and live in a huge, beautiful home. She smiled at herself at the memory and realized that the thought of a husband had never really fit into these grand fantasies she’d have. Nor children for that matter. It struck her as odd right then that for someone who hated to be alone, all her fantasies always revolved her being alone, independent and making her own decisions.

Now she watched the water of the creek gently flow and she had a rather different fantasy right then. She envisioned herself walking into the shallow water and floating away; though she knew the water wasn’t deep enough for that. If she did that, she’d scrape herself on the rocks just below the surface instead of floating away down towards the ocean where she’d surely drown. However the water was shallow enough that should the current carry her for any distance, she’d likely strike her head on a stone and bleed to death long before drowning.

As Bulma thought of the two morbid alternatives, she decided that death by head injury would be preferable to drowning. A head injury would mean she would likely be delirious and not realize the severity of her dire circumstances and fall into a blissful sleep before she passed. Whereas if she drowned, she would meet her end in a panicked state. That thought was not at all appealing to her.

As she as wondering about how long it would take for her to be discovered if she did do such a thing, she heard steps behind her, interrupting her morbid thoughts and turned around, startled to see her father approaching her cautiously.

“I did not mean to frighten you,” he apologized. “I was about to turn back because you seemed to be in deep thought.”

“It’s alright,” she smiled gratefully at him. In a way she was thankful he had come when he had. The vividly disturbing, yet somewhat appealing thoughts she’d just been having were beginning to frighten her. “I was going to come to see you and then realized it’s been some time since I’d come and visited the creek. I’ll be leaving here soon. Who knows when I will be back to see it again.”

“My apologies for disturbing you,” he said, though did not leave. “You haven’t come up here since you were a child because your mother scolded you,”

“It’s been a while,” she agreed. “I’ve forgotten how peaceful and relaxing it is out here.”

“Right,” he nodded. “I hope your mother isn’t driving you too insane with her meddling; however well she means,”

“Hmmm, you know how she can be,” she replied. “How’s your project coming along? I’m sorry I haven’t been by to help you out.”

“Well, you’ve been a little preoccupied,” he chuckled. “But I did not come out here to discuss my work, I wanted to speak to you and ensure you are alright with all of this,”

“Do I _really_ have a choice in the matter?” she asked.

Her father was silent a long moment.

“Just as I thought,” she sighed. “You can’t talk her out of this, can you?”

“I am afraid not,” he shook his head. “I have tried,”

“So what was the point of all the years of counsel that a good wife listens to her husband and lets him take the lead and makes all the final household decisions when she doesn’t follow that and it’s _her_ that runs everything?” she asked pointedly, trying to hold back some of the bitterness she felt.

“That’s a very good question, my dear, however you know what your mother is like once she gets an idea into her head,”

“And you won’t put your foot down on this for me on my behalf?” she asked, hoping that if he understood fully that this was something she truly did not want that he’d stand up to her mother and put an end to it.

“I have tried,”

“Have you?” she snipped.

“I have,” he nodded. “However are you certain you are not overreacting to the situation and not giving Yamcha a fair chance? Aside from the age difference, I see no reason as to why he would not be a good match for you. He is a Barron, is well off with some very ambitious aspirations. I understand that you are a young woman of simple tastes, you do not have need for showy or elaborate displays, nor do extreme riches impress you; but character wise, Yamcha is impeccable.

“He has the utmost in moral standings, is honest and honorable in everything he does. He is not a gambler or a drunkard. He is very career driven and would treat you with the dignity and respect a gentleman ought to treat his wife. Try as I might, I can find no fault in him and therefore trust your mother’s judgement that he is an excellent match for you _if_ you would give him the chance.”

Bulma lowered her head and picked at a hangnail as she listened to her father. He wasn’t wrong, these were all things she kept telling herself over and over again, yet she still had this feeling deep down in the pit of her stomach that no matter how wonderful Yamcha was, she’d never be truly happy with him.

“You know, your mother wasn’t exactly thrilled when her parents _made_ her marry me and look where we are,” he said. “I will admit it wasn’t easy in the beginning, but we made it work. I love your mother very much and she loves me. So I hope will be the same for you if you give the man a fair chance.”

“I _want_ to, but why does the wedding need to be so… _rushed_?” she asked. “I feel as though I’m being suddenly shipped off and married off to some stranger without any thought or care to how I feel about it. Even Tights had several months to get to know her husband before they were wed.”

“Right,” he agreed. “That is something you will have to discuss with your mother, for it is with her I leave these things.”

Bulma nodded and went back to leaning against the tree. She loved her father dearly, but he was apparently useless in this regard. “I’ll do my best, I guess,”

“I know you will, dear,” he said, trying to sound comforting. “You have a good heart. Try to not let that brilliant mind of yours over think this situation. You have a knack for prematurely making your mind up and dismissing everything else.

“Do you recall the time when you were a little girl and you were fascinated with horses, yet terrified to ride one?” he asked her, smiling at the memory. “I bought you the best, most well trained horse money could buy, despite your mother’s objections, hired a trainer to teach you to ride and you refused to even try. I dismissed the trainer and all you had interest in was grooming the horse rather than riding it. Do you remember what happened?”

Bulma smiled. “Shortly after getting the horse, he fell ill because I’d carelessly left him out in a storm, rather than putting him away like I should have.”

“Right,” he nodded. “You were so distraught over how ill he was, you took the best care of him and when he recovered, what did you do?”

“Taught myself to ride and loved him dearly,” she answered, not entirely agreeing with the comparison, but understanding what her father was getting at.

“All on your own, without the help of a trainer,” he reminded her. “While this is different than when you are a girl, it is the same in that you had closed your mind off to it completely, but given enough time, you came around and realized it wasn’t as frightening as you thought and you never looked back. So maybe will your life with Yamcha be.”

“You’re right,” she sighed and managed to give her father a smile. “I’m sure it will be just fine, given enough time,”

“That’s my daughter,” he smiled back. “Now let’s head back, I’m sure dinner is ready and your mother will be wondering where we are,”

Bulma nodded and went with him. Both of them concerned for the future that was to come, but not speaking what they meant to say. 

* * *

As planned, Bulma and Yamcha were married the first week of July; Bulma with no say in the matter.

The whole wedding affair was ostentatious and overdone; her mother’s doing. Her dress was over the top; she hadn’t put any enthusiasm in choosing it, letting her mother decide everything and run the show. She merely showed up where she was supposed to, secretly hoping that Yamcha would change his mind last minute because she wasn’t lady like or because she hadn’t replied to his letters as frequently as he would have liked. She didn’t enjoy cooking or entertaining guests. She didn’t enjoy spending her days sitting around drinking tea and gossiping or spending hours getting dressed and pampered. She was under the impression that’s what Yamcha wanted. A pretty wife to take around to his campaigns to look pretty beside him and possibly start a family with. Why did it have to be her? Couldn’t he have found someone else for this _fake_ role?

“Look at my _beautiful_ little sister!” her older sister Tights, whom she hadn’t seen in several years gushed. “Mom went way out this time, didn’t she?”

“Unfortunately,” she rolled her eyes.

“Lighten up!” she giggled. “Yamcha is super sweet. You’ll be happy with him,”

“Are you happy?” Bulma asked pointedly. She had been too young to remember if her sister had been happy or not; she barely remembered the wedding, except that her sister looked beautiful and seemed happy enough, but had she been, really?

“Sure,” she shrugged. “Tien has more money than _god_. I get to redecorate the entire house once a year, I always am dressed in the latest fashions. Our son, Chiaotzu is growing up to be a fine horseman and Launch is already the best baker in the county and will make any man an exceptional wife when she’s ready. We couldn’t be happier!”

Bulma’s heart sank as she listened to her sister prattle on. She sounded just as shallow as her mother. Instead of getting some practical advice from her, she’d just had her worst nightmares confirmed. She was doomed to be bored and lonely with a man she did not love for the rest of her life.

“Don’t look so depressed,” her sister said, taking her hands. “At least Yamcha is handsome, he doesn’t look his age at all and he’ll likely take you _all over_ the world! Mother could have married you to some old fat guy who smells bad, like several of my friends. At least mom chose us good looking, _nice_ men with _tons_ of money to keep us happy!”

“True, but I’m just not sure he’s the _right_ man,” she admitted and felt guilty for _finally_ saying that out loud and on her wedding day no less.

Tights shrugged nonchalantly. “Dear sister, so long as they’re rich and handsome, they’re _all_ the right man.”

Bulma rolled her eyes and looked at Yamcha as he was getting a slap on the back by someone congratulating him. He looked happy and she supposed he was handsome, she couldn’t complain about that… But still, she barely knew him and they had nothing in common. She supposed there was nothing she could do about it now. The nuptials we over and she was just waiting for the party to end so she could go to bed. Though she knew her evening would be far from over once they left the reception; she was nervous but curious at the same time about it.

“You’ll be fine, sister, and stop over thinking it,” Tights said reassuringly. “Just make him happy later _tonight_. It’ll be quick and hopefully he’ll only expect it a few times a month. It’s really not that bad and sometimes it’s even fun once you get the hang of it. Trust me, it’s not the worst.” 

Bulma sighed. “It was so good to see you again, Tights,” she said, hugging her sister tightly. “Please write to me or come visit,”

“I absolutely will!” she promised with a smile. “If Yamcha has business nearby, please stay with us, you’re both _more_ than welcome.”

“I’ll mention it to him,” she nodded, feeling oddly emotional at seeing her sister, feeling they for once actually had _something_ in common now. She only hoped that she would one day be as content with her situation as her sister seemed to be with hers. She looked great and seemed happy enough.

The rest of the night went by like a blur to her. Yamcha danced with her a few times, as did her father, who was more quiet than usual and she knew he was concerned about her. However, she kept her true feelings to herself, not wanting to confirm his worries about her.

It was early morning when Yamcha had been ready to turn in for the night and they left for their room in the giant mansion they’d used to host their wedding reception at.

“I am very happy to have you as my wife,” he said to her once they’d retired to the privacy of their room.

“Right,” she nodded, unsure of what to say. She knew what was now expected of her and was nervous. Quietly she began to remove her clothing.

“May I assist you?” Yamcha asked her.

She nodded shyly and allowed him to help her remove the elaborate wedding gown her mother had chosen. Her dress fell to the floor as he unbuttoned the back of it and he softly kissed her shoulder.

If anything her sister had told her was correct, at least it had been that the consummation of their marriage had been _quick._ Yamcha had been very considerate and respectful of her untouched condition, but she still had not enjoyed herself and had been thankful that it had been over within a few minutes. She found herself disappointed and hoped her sister was correct that physical intimacy could be _fun_. If not, then what was the point?

Yamcha rolled over once spent and fell asleep quickly, leaving his new, young bride to lay there feeling unsatisfied, unhappy and wishing she was anywhere else but there. She slept little that night, trying to hold back tears and stop thoughts of jumping out one of the windows of their immaculate suite.

The next day, arrangements were finalized to have the remainder of Bulma’s things sent away to Yamcha’s home, which was a week’s travel by carriage from her parent’s home and everything she knew.

Bulma said her goodbyes to her parents and off she and Yamcha went by carriage to begin their honeymoon.

* * *

Two weeks had passed and Mrs. Briefs squealed in delight when she found a letter in the mail from her daughter.

_Dear Mother,_

_Italy has been simply gorgeous! I do not even know where to begin. Yamcha has taken me to see some of the most beautiful art displays! He’s very patient with me and knows literally everything so I do not need to ask him any explanation about who created such works and what inspired them or where they originally came from. His knowledge about all the local history astounds me._

_We have done so much walking on our travels, my feet are very sore and I am afraid I have been nothing but exhausted the entire time, but am otherwise having a wonderful time. Yamcha has gone over and above to spoil me and shower me with anything he thinks I have an interest in, despite my protests that I do not require anything more. I do not want him to feel I am taking advantage of his generous nature._

_I hope all is well with you and papa. I miss you both and will write again when we arrive at Yamcha’s home, of which I cannot remember the name._

_Happy but exhausted,_

_Bulma_

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Mrs. Briefs gushed. “I’m so happy they seem to be getting on well together.”

“Yes, that’s splendid,” he replied. “However it is still the honeymoon phase, so of course things are off to a good start,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mrs. Briefs asked with a frown.

“What I mean is, once they reach Yamcha’s home and settle in for real life together, I worry that she will be bored up there.”

“Oh don’t be silly, Yamcha will pamper and spoil her to death practically,”

“That I don’t doubt,” Mr. Briefs agreed. “What worries me is Bulma is not to be bought by extravagant material things. Will Yamcha be able to keep her amused? Will he be able to keep up with her mentally?”

“Of course he will, he’s not an idiot!” she snapped in offence.

“I was not implying that he is an idiot, dear,” Mr. Briefs clarified. “I am merely concerned that she will not have enough to do in his home to occupy her mind.”

“Nonsense,” she snorted with a wave of her hand, dismissing the idea completely. “She’ll have an entire household to run, what more does she need?”

Mr. Briefs shook his head, “I suppose you’re right dear. Let us hope all will be fine.”

“They will be fine,” she replied confidently as she finished her tea.

* * *

It was four weeks into their honeymoon. Yamcha and Bulma were in a beautiful, lavish hotel in Sorrento, Italy overlooking the sea.

“I never want to leave here,” she said to him as he finished packing their things.

“You’ve said that nearly everywhere we’ve gone,” he chuckled at her.

“Well, everywhere you’ve taken me seems to be my most favorite place yet,” she shrugged. “Though I suppose that must sound silly,”

“Not really,” he smiled good naturedly at her. “I mean, you haven’t been anywhere outside your home, so of course it’s all grand and wonderful to you,”

“Not to mention that you’re an amazing tour guide,” she pointed out. “I don’t know how you can remember all the names and history of everything everywhere,”

“I love all of that stuff, so it’s easy for me,” he said modestly. “Kind of the same with how you love anything of a mechanical nature I suppose,”

“True,” she agreed. “So where are we to go next?”

“Actually, I thought we might be headed home a little on the early side,” he said. “I received a note yesterday that there are some critical meetings I must not miss. It means we will be arriving back home a week earlier than expected, so I assumed you wouldn’t mind,”

Bulma thought about that for a moment. She supposed that was alright, she was loving every moment of their trip in Italy, however she was anxious to see her new home and get herself settled in. “That’s alright,” she nodded. “I am excited to see your home,”

“You’re going to love it!” he promised, relieved that she didn’t seem upset with him that he was cutting their honeymoon short. “It’s chilly in the winter, but in the summer, it’s gorgeous. There are beaches and it is more of a tourist area, so there are times where it’s nearly deserted and times when it does get busy,”

“And where is it again?” she asked. She’d never heard of the town before her mother had told her she would be moving there.

“My home is in the Region of Stralsund,” he told her. “It is my goal to have it stand separate as its own province and be their governor, hence my need to travel and garner as many supporters as I can,”

“I understand,” she nodded, though politics weren’t her thing, she could appreciate his ambitions.

“It will be a long and tedious haul, but if I am able to gain enough favor and support, I will be able to pull it off,” he continued. “This will require you to accompany me on some of my travels, but most of the time you will be required to stay at home and keep up appearances there, entertaining my local supporters on your own. You think you are able to do that?”

Bulma cringed at the thought. There wasn’t anything she could think of that she’d rather not have to do then entertain a bunch of stuffy political people for her husband’s benefit, on her own no less! “I am sure I can manage it,” she replied, not wanting to disappoint him.

“I have nothing but the utmost confidence that you will be able to, no problem,” he said confidently. “Your mother is the most amazing hostess I have ever known, I am certain she’ll have passed that on to you.”

“Well, she indeed tried,” she replied in a joking tone, though she was not joking.

“I have no doubt that within six months, they will all adore you more than myself,” he laughed. “That is, if you’re up for it. I do know your mother mentioned that you are somewhat of a recluse.”

Bulma shrugged, but was annoyed by that. It was true to some extent, but the way he said it made it sound like she was antisocial. While she wasn’t the social butterfly her mother and sister were, she certainly didn’t see herself as a recluse in the sense that she didn’t enjoy the company of other people; quite the opposite, she didn’t like being completely alone, but she didn’t enjoy being thrown into huge social settings either. Instead of confirming his comment, she decided since she was to be the wife of a potentially important political figure, she needed to step up and be the person her mother would want her to be in this situation. “I would not say I am a recluse, though it is difficult to shine when my mother is so outgoing. Everyone is naturally drawn to her charms,”

“Well, that much is true,” he agreed. “Maybe you’ve never been given the opportunity; your mother does command the attention of the room in any function I’ve ever been to where she has been present. Even our own wedding at times,”

Bulma cringed at the memory of several moments during their wedding reception where she’d just wished her mother would shut up and let the party go on instead of constantly boasting about what a wonderful match her daughter was to her ex fiancé.  The woman needed to take credit for absolutely everything. If they ever decided to have children, she supposed her mother would find a way to take credit for that as well. “Yes, well, my mother is colorful,”

“That she is,” he chuckled. He hoped it would turn out that Bulma could work a room and be as charming as her mother always was. “I will always be fond of her.”

They finished packing their things and left their hotel after a light breakfast and began heading to their home in Stralsund, Germany.

* * *

They arrived to Yamcha’s home region in the evening time, exactly a week from leaving Sorrento.

Once they got off the train, they were greeted by an elderly man introduced to Bulma as Roshi, Yamcha’s personal squire. Yamcha assisted him in loading their luggage onto their carriage and off they went.

Once they had reached the region, Yamcha pointed out all of the important places and told her who lived where, of which meant nothing to her at the moment, especially as it was already dark out and she could not see very well. The only thing of importance she had noted was the beaches overlooking the Baltic Sea. She already knew she’d likely see herself taking lots of walks along the beautiful, vast beach.

It was about forty five minutes later when they reached the road leading up to his home. It was gated and dark out, Bulma could not see much. Within a few minutes, a large house came into view. They were greeted by a large Black Labrador the moment the carriage came to a halt.

“This is Puar,” Yamcha introduced her. “She is my pride and joy and the woman of my life, until you came along,” he joked. “I know you will love her as much as I do,”

Bulma smiled at the friendly Labrador. “She’s beautiful,”

“I found her abandoned on the side of the road as a young pup on one of my travels and took it upon myself to nurse her back to health; she hadn’t left my side ever since, unless I leave for an extended trip. If you go anywhere on your own, be sure to take her with you. Do not be fooled by her friendly demeanor, she will protect you if need be,” he told her. “You’ve met Roshi and this is Baba,” he went on, referring to an older woman standing outside to greet them. “She essentially runs the house. Should you need anything at all, you are to let her know and she will see to it.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” Baba greeted Bulma. “You mentioned she was young, but not that she was stunningly gorgeous, Yamcha.”

Bulma blushed. “Why thank you, you are very kind. It is a pleasure to meet you as well,”

“You both must be tired from your journey and it is rather chilly. I have tea made and I took the liberty of preparing the master bedroom so you may turn in immediately if it suits you. My dear, I also put away your personal belongings with Master Yamcha’s belongings, as I assume you will both be sharing a bedroom?”

“Uhm, yes,” she nodded awkwardly. “That’s fine, thank you,”

They entered the large home, which was lit mainly by paraffin lamps.

“I will give you the grand tour tomorrow morning, first thing,” Yamcha told her. “Are you tired?”

“Actually I am quite tired,” she admitted. “I might just have a cup of tea to warm up and then turn in if that’s alright.”

“Of course it is,” Yamcha nodded. “You go do that. I have to check the mail and reply to a few letters so will be up for a little while yet, but I will not disturb you when I come to bed,”

“Sounds good,” she smiled at him and followed Baba down the hall to her new room.

After she changed into a thick, warm night gown and enjoyed a cup of tea, she went to bed and fell asleep almost immediately.


	3. Chapter 3

Bulma awoke later than intended the next day. Apparently she’d been more tired than she’d realized, she thought in embarrassment as she got up to get dressed. Yamcha must have been already up and about, for he was nowhere to be found. True to his word, he had not disturbed her last night.

Bulma quietly exited their bedroom, which she could tell now in ample lighting, was large and spacious. She made her way down the hall and down the stairs to the main floor where she noticed Baba in one of the rooms that appeared to be a dining room that she was setting plates and glasses down.

“You’re up!” she exclaimed when she noticed Bulma and rushed over to her. “Did you sleep alright?”

“I did, thank you,” she replied. “What time is it?”

“It is a little after nine thirty,”

“Oh dear, I cannot believe I slept in that late,” she exclaimed in embarrassment. She was usually an early riser. “I hope Yamcha doesn’t mind,”

“Nonsense! Of course not,” she waved her hand. “He left to go and take the mail out and deliver his mail to the post with Roshi and help out with a few last minute preparations for tonight’s dinner, but he should be back home at any minute to have breakfast with you. Come now, I have coffee waiting; have a seat, make yourself comfortable and I will finish preparing breakfast so it may be served as soon as he returns,”

“Tonight’s dinner?” Bulma asked; though that explained why she saw Baba setting the table.

“Why yes, the dinner to celebrate your marriage,” she informed her.

“Oh, right! I forgot about that,”

“He never told you?” she exclaimed.

“Well, he did, but it was in a letter he wrote me about a week or two before the wedding,” she replied. “I completely forgot, though I shouldn’t have. He keeps mentioning that we will be entertaining quite a lot,”

“Men,” she snorted. “Well tonight nearly everyone has been invited to the dinner celebration. I will help you get ready later on if you require assistance; guests will be arriving for cocktails and drinks around four o’clock this afternoon.”

“Alright,” she nodded. That wouldn’t leave a lot of time for Yamcha to give her a tour of the seemingly ginormous home and getting ready for a formal differ. “If you need any help preparing, please let me know,”

“Nonsense!” the older woman exclaimed almost in offence. “You just relax and make sure you are ready at four and leave the rest to me,”

Bulma simply nodded and sipped her coffee Baba handed to her.

Nervous, Bulma dressed herself in one of the many beautiful dresses Yamcha had gotten her on their journey back to his place. For tonight, she’d chosen a red dress that wasn’t too low cut in the bust, but it was tight down to her waist and flowed out in thick skirts at her hips and down to the floor like a bell. It was one of the more modest dresses Yamcha had chosen for her and not nearly as ostentatious as the gown her mother had bought for her to wear for this specific evening.

She hadn’t wanted Baba to help her with her hair and makeup, but apparently that had not been an option, it was mandatory. She did her hair in a loose bun low, at the nape of her neck. Nearly finished, Yamcha came to get her, as people were beginning to arrive.

“Don’t you look stunning, my bride!” he exclaimed proudly as soon as he saw her. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the region, you know.”

“I’m sure that’s far from true,” she replied, looking down at her hands, feeling uncomfortable with the complement from him. He seemed not opposed to showering her with verbal complements, yet adverse to any kind of physical affection towards her, which confused her.  

“No need to be so modest,” he chuckled. “Though it is a very admirable quality. Come now, our guests have already started arriving and they are all very excited to meet you.”

Bulma sighed and went with him as he offered her his arm. She hoped too many people didn’t show up to their home. Large gatherings were never her thing and she used to avoid them as much as possible, much to her mother’s irritation.

There were already several couples who had arrived and were in the large entertainment room drinking and snacking on the vast selection of appetizers that had been already laid out by the house staff.

“Yamcha,” a very handsome, shorter man greeted them almost immediately. He wore a more modern style suit that Bulma had never seen before. It was well fitted, revealing the fit build of the man. His hair stood straight up in a flame type style, of which she also had never met anyone with such a unique and exotic look. His slightly darker skin tone and dark, but pronounced features immediately fascinated her. He had a strong jawline, full lips, prominent widow’s peak and the darkest, most intense, sparkling, black eyes she’d ever seen.

If she could have conjured up a fantasy man, this would have been close. Never had she seen a man so magnificently beautiful, yet rugged and masculine at the same time. The two descriptions barely went together and contradicted themselves, but they were the only two words she could think of that could adequately describe him.

He addressed her husband, but not a second later, his eyes were fixed on her with interest, giving her a heated look of assessment that left her feeling like she should have chosen a more scandalous dress, as she felt like he was mentally undressing her with his intense eyes anyway. Feeling uncomfortable, she looked down a moment, as though checking to make sure her dress had not fallen off from his intense scrutiny alone.

“Vegeta is my best general,” Yamcha told her proudly, breaking the spell she’d fallen under. “We’ve made it through some pretty bad situations together in the war. If it weren’t for his quick thinking during battle, I’m not sure I’d even be alive today. I owe him my life several times over.”

“Your husband speaks nonsense,” Vegeta replied smoothly, not taking his warm gaze off of Bulma. _Where did he find her_ , he wondered to himself.

Bulma looked down again, feeling very uncomfortable with his obvious ogling and the delectable way his mouth curved in a sly smirk that oozed confidence and danger.

“Where is Lazuli?” Yamcha asked, looking around, either completely missing the obscene way in which Vegeta was eyeing up his wife, or not caring.

“She is around here somewhere,” Vegeta replied in an uninterested tone, still fixated on Bulma. “Probably off complaining about something to one of your servants,”

Yamcha chuckled. “You’re probably right. I haven’t seen her in some time and I thought it would be nice if Bulma got a chance to meet her, since I will be leaving again almost immediately. She needs friends to keep her occupied.”

“Is that your… sister?” Bulma asked in confusion. Surely this man wasn’t married.

“Wife,” he corrected her and she didn’t miss the disdain dripping off of his mouth at the word _wife_.

“I see,” she nodded, trying to hide her disappointment, which she couldn’t understand. She herself was newly married, though only six weeks. Why did it bother her to hear that this gorgeous stranger was married as well?

“I will ensure she meets you,” he said.

“See? You’ll have someone to keep you company while I am away,” Yamcha said happily as though all their problems had been solved right then. “And Lazuli has many friends as well, you’ll fit right in here, you’ll not even notice I am away.”

“I’ll look forward to meeting her,” Bulma said, still feeling confused and very uncomfortable. This man was married and was practically eye fucking her in front of her husband! And worst of all, instead of being offended or mortified, she liked it and almost wished that Yamcha had looked at her like that when her mother had announced their marriage, or if he’d looked at her that way on their wedding day, or even wedding night or at some point during their honeymoon.

Yamcha was a kind man and she knew she had no real cause for complaint. He’d already gone through great lengths to spoil and dote on her on their journey to his home, but there was no chemistry there. Not like she’d always wished for if she ever had the thought to marry, or like what she’d read about or even just experienced in a few minutes of meeting a complete stranger. She felt trapped and claustrophobic with every moment that dragged on since their wedding.

“Come along, I have plenty of people for you to meet. I’ll catch up with you later, Vegeta.” Yamcha nodded at his friend, steering Bulma towards a small crowd that had quickly congregated over the last few minutes.

Vegeta simply nodded once, though his gaze was back on Bulma and she felt a shiver run down her spine as she turned from him and knew he was still devouring her with his eyes; she could feel it and she consciously had to force herself to not look back at him as they walked away.

“You are to be very careful around him in my absence,” Yamcha advised her quietly when they were a fair distance from Vegeta. “He is one of my closest friends, I trust him with my life, but he has a horrible reputation for being a womanizer that I’m afraid is more than just a bad rumor.”

“Really?” She asked, though she was not surprised, given how openly he’d checked her out. Somehow the thought turned her on even more.

“Yes,” he replied. “However I trust that he would not cross that line where you are concerned; not after everything we have gone through together. He may be a terrible womanizer, but he still has some sense of moral code. I simply warn to make sure you never put yourself in a compromising situation with him. Rumors would spread like wildfire and not be easily put to rest even if you are both innocent. I trust you and him, however I cannot have rumors like that tainting my campaign.”

“Of course not,” she nodded, however something in her gut told her that he was greatly underestimating his _friend_. Had he truly not noticed the lecherous way he’d devoured her with his eyes? “I would not do anything to betray you or put your campaign at risk,”

“Oh I know that, and neither would he,” he said quickly. “I am just making you aware of his reputation because everyone knows and it would take little more than a sneeze in his direction for people to think there was something going on between you two.”

“Right,” she replied with a slight frown. Yet he had not noticed at all how their greeting had gone, or was she being overly sensitive and stuck on herself for thinking that Vegeta was mentally undressing her? She did not think she was the type of girl who thought that every man who glanced her way wanted her. Vegeta had left a distinct impression… or so she’d thought.

* * *

“You aren’t _seriously_ considering her, are you?” Came the soft, monotone voice of Lazuli, Vegeta’s wife.

“Of course I am,” he snorted, still watching Bulma intently from across the room as Yamcha introduced her to a slew of other people.

“Going for your friend’s wife is low, even for you,” she said in a bored tone, handing him a glass of wine. “There will be tons of other girls arriving around here soon for you to sniff after, why not claim one of them?”

“Because, I want _her_ ,” he answered simply. He knew she was interested in him; it would not take much to convince her and he was certain he could show her a much better time than Yamcha. The poor fool had probably barely touched her. The thought of eventually having her made him stiff already.

“Whatever,” she sighed in boredom, unbothered by her husband’s intentions. Theirs was a marriage of convenience. Vegeta had married Lazuli for her money and she had married Vegeta for his good looks and status. They both had an agreement in which they could do whatever they wanted with whoever, just so long as it was kept quiet and no one found out about their extracurricular activities outside their marriage. It was the perfect union, as neither of them cared what, or rather _who,_ the other did and they both enjoyed bragging to the other of their experiences and conquests. That alone was an aphrodisiac to them in their twisted union.

“See anyone you like?” he asked, finally looking away from Bulma and focusing on his own wife who looked absolutely stunning, as usual. She wore a daring dark blue dress, just a few shades darker than her blue eyes, making them look even more exceptionally blue than what they already were. It was tight and low cut in the front and the back, almost to the point of being indecent. Her hair was in a half up, half down style. If she did not find someone to occupy her interest tonight, he was anticipating having her this evening. Bulma would be a long term project that he would have to cultivate carefully. Strangely enough, it was those types that satisfied him the most. Any man could seduce a loose woman within a few hours, but to slowly go about seducing one that would be a little bit trickier was more of a boost to his ego.

“Hmmn, no,” she shrugged, taking a quick glance around the room. “Everyone here is either old news I do not wish to rehash, or no one I would touch with a ten foot pole. Though the night is young. Why? Do _you_ have other plans?”

“No,” he grunted, focusing back on Bulma and watching her carefully. “My plans will take a little while to cultivate. In which case, I came here with my chosen conquest for the evening.”

“Is that so?” she asked, arching a perfectly manicured eyebrow in interest.

“Hmmn,” he confirmed, returning a mischievous glance at her. “Why don’t we find someplace a little less crowded before dinner starts?”

“I suppose,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “It has been a while since we covered uncharted territory.”

Vegeta nodded once at her as he took her hand and led her out of the spacious room. On his way out, he happened to make eye contact with Bulma and smirked deviously at her. She looked like she wished someone was rescuing her from this gathering and he wished he could do just that. However he felt more than confident he’d successfully planted the seed already. She just needed a little time figure out what she wanted.

In the meantime, he was more than satisfied having his delectable wife.

* * *

Bulma smiled lots and politely greeted their guests alongside Yamcha as he introduced her to everyone in his circle. She figured they’d only been here a half hour and she already wished the night was over so she could go to bed. It was not that she wasn’t friendly or did not enjoy socializing, it was that the conversation at all of these things were terribly dull. She’d already answered the same questions at nausea. Where was she from, who were her parents, if she and Yamcha had immediate plans to start a family? It was all boring, mundane and repetitive.

Just as she was wishing she could be anywhere else but there, she happened to notice Vegeta leaving with a strikingly beautiful blonde woman, she assumed wasn’t his wife. She was stunningly gorgeous and was dressed in such a way that screamed for attention. If she were any other girl, she might have been appalled that someone dared show up at _her_ function dressed in such a manner as to detract attention from the bride, however Bulma didn’t care. She did wonder who she was though, and was shocked that Vegeta would be so bold as to leave with a woman, when it had been made clear that his wife was present!

He happened to glance and make eye contact with her just before they exited the room and Bulma found herself wishing he had chosen to make a swift exit with her. The smirk he gave her just before he was out of sight made her stomach flip and her cheeks feel warm.

Bulma wasn’t sure how long it had been, but she was beginning to feel claustrophobic. She just wished dinner would be served already and the evening would hopefully pass quickly after that. After another ten or fifteen minutes of mundane conversation, she found a way to politely excuse herself from the group pf people. Thankfully, Yamcha was too busy speaking with someone about political things she had no interest in that he didn’t even notice her silently slip out of the room.

She exhaled deeply in relief as she stood in the neat, empty hallway. _Silence at last._

She wasn’t sure where she was going to go, she just needed a few minutes to herself where she didn’t have to talk to anyone and answer the same four or five questions. She should have had Yamcha send out a pamphlet about her along with the invitations covering all the frequently asked questions that everyone kept asking her over and over again.

Bulma went up the stairs slowly, admiring some of the artwork on the walls; she hadn’t really had the time to get acquainted with her new home. It _was_ very nice. She supposed she could be happy here if she gave it an honest chance. She wondered if there was a room that Yamcha didn’t use that he wouldn’t mind if she took it as an office to work on her own little projects and inventions. She hoped so and made a mental note to ask him the next day. As she walked down the upstairs hallway, she heard a soft moan come from one of the rooms.

Curiously, Bulma pushed on the door, opening it quietly and held her breath as she saw Vegeta and the beautiful blonde woman together in the drawing room. She’d been certain they’d left!

The woman was laying on her back on one of the tables with her legs spread wide and her skirts bunched around her hips; her back arched as she silently writhed in pleasure. Between her legs was Vegeta’s face and she could tell his mouth was on her, pleasuring her core.

Bulma only watched for a moment in envy, wishing her own husband would do such vulgar things to her before looking down in embarrassment at the thought and was about to turn and leave before she was noticed, except she heard him make a very low growl. She looked back up and nearly fell over as Vegeta made direct eye contact with her.

She had been caught watching, she thought in mortification and wasn’t sure if she should apologize or just leave anyway; why couldn’t the ground open up and swallow her? As she contemplated on what etiquette dictated what the proper thing was for her to do, it didn’t escape her notice that Vegeta had not let up on his ministrations on the blonde and he had maintained eye contact with her. If he was embarrassed or bothered by her discovery, he sure wasn’t letting on to it.

He broke eye contact with her as he stood up, revealing that his shirt had been removed. She held a breath as she both took in his thick, well-built physique and braced herself for getting yelled at most likely, except instead of calling her out, he grabbed the blonde woman’s hips and pulled them closer to him. She couldn’t see his manhood, but she knew that he was penetrating the woman.

She giggled in ecstasy and arched her back to meet him as he filled her up.

Bulma knew she was red as a tomato as she watched them. Her feet were nailed to the floor and she could not bring herself to leave, especially when he looked at her again as he began thrusting into the woman. Alternating between so hard and fast that it was causing the small table to shift to slowing down every so often and then surging hard into her again.

The intense, predatory way he looked at her as he fucked this woman made her feel like he was fucking her as her pulse raced and her heart beat almost in tune to the rhythm he’d set. Her own breath hitched as she felt the heat of her own arousal becoming uncomfortable at the intensity at the sight of them and realized in shame that she _wished_ she was that woman beneath him; she was enjoying herself a whole lot more than she had with Yamcha in the two or three times they had been intimate since their wedding.

While Yamcha _tried_ to make her comfortable during the act, he never put his mouth on her and they were only intimate it seemed because he’d had too much wine and she had been the instigator. Werent couple supposed to engage in such things, she’d wondered several times since their wedding. Her mother had drilled into her at nausea her wifely obligations to her husband and she had tried to fulfil them, however Yamcha seemed disinterested in that for the most part. Watching this woman writhe, moan and carry on as she was made Bulma feel inadequate and wonder if maybe she was doing something wrong that Yamcha did not want her that way?

The woman writhed and sighed and muttered a few words of encouragement to him as he continued. She pulled the top of her dress down and began to fondle her breasts as he picked up his pace, still watching Bulma. How the other woman had not noticed that her suitor’s attention was not solely on her was beyond Bulma’s comprehension.

Vegeta pulled out of her slowly, presumably keeping only the head of his cock inside her; Bulma could not tell. The blonde moaned in complaint that he’d stopped. He smirked deviously at Bulma as he stuck his thumb in his mouth and then began rubbing the woman’s clit with it. She began to moan in pleasure again, appeased that he was continuing, and he sunk himself back into her, slowly. His eyes never left hers and she didn’t miss the intense hunger there as he stared at her. It was as creepy as it was arousing and she was definitely more than a little bit aroused. Never had her nether regions throbbed like this, almost painfully as she watched him. It took nearly everything inside her to not tear off her own dress and demand he alleviate this discomfort _he_ had caused!

As the woman began to climax, he broke eye contact with Bulma and she was able to leave. Anger was the first emotion she could identify as she made her way back down the stairs uncomfortably. She knew she looked flushed and she could feel the dampness between her thighs coating her under garments. Her nipples were hardened and extra sensitive, making the restricting bodice of her dress even more uncomfortable than it already had been. She hoped no one would notice her discomfort and excited state.

_What the fuck was that?_ She asked herself. Never had she witnessed anything so vulgar and yet she was so turned on at the moment that she almost wanted to go back upstairs to see if he’d fuck her for real instead of just with his eyes. Immediately guilt followed that thought. What was wrong with her? She’d only met this man for a span of two minutes and she was _this_ hot and bothered over him. He wasn’t the first man to look at her like that, though he was the most obvious about it. Was that it?

“There you are,” Yamcha said quietly as she re-entered the entertainment room, now full of even more guests. “I was wondering where you’d went,”

“Just to get some air,” she said. “It’s quite warm in here,”

“Right, you are looking a little flushed. Are you feeling alright?” he asked in concern.

“I’m fine,” she nodded. “Just a bit of a panic attack. There are so many people here,”

“Not that many,” he answered, looking around the room. It was crowded, but not to the point of being over crowded in his opinion. “It _is_ rather warm in here, I’ll ask Roshi to open some of the windows and get some air flow going in here,”

“Good idea,” she smiled, hoping she didn’t look too much a mess. Her hands felt clammy and she still felt warm all over like an electric current was running through her. As Yamcha looked at her in concern, a thought crossed her mind and she wondered if he would go along with it. She never in her life would have thought she _needed_ this type of relief, but after the scene she’d just witnessed, she wasn’t sure she could comfortably sit through dinner and wait until all the guests had left.

Bulma grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room and to the stairs.

“Bulma, where are we going?” he asked her in confusion. “Dinner will be served at any minute.”

“I know, I just… I want a moment _alone_ with you,” she said, determined to make it to their bedroom.

“What? Why now? We have guests,” he objected, but did not resist her pulling him behind her as they walked into their bedroom and she shut the door and practically threw herself at him, kissing him on the mouth. He responded for a moment, kissing her back until she placed a hand on his crotch. “Umm, I appreciate your _enthusiasm_ , dear, but right now isn’t the time.”

“Everyone is busy downstairs eating and drinking,” she murmured against his mouth as she continued to kiss him.

“All the more reason why this is a terrible idea,” he chuckled, placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her away gently.

Bulma sighed heavily and clenched her teeth in frustration and mortification. What _was_ she thinking trying to do this when people were over! Her husband may be right, but that didn’t make his blatant rejection sting any less.

“Later,” he said quietly. “When everyone is gone,”

She nodded in agreement; she felt foolish now. This wasn’t who she was! Her mother had brought her up better than this.

Yamcha offered her his arm and lead her back down the hallway, nearly crashing into Vegeta and the blonde woman as they stumbled loudly and obnoxiously from the drawing room right then.

Bulma looked at him wide-eyed in embarrassment and felt herself turn beet red.

“What are you two doing up here?” Yamcha asked.

“We were looking for you both,” Vegeta said quickly, smirking at Bulma, taking great satisfaction at her obvious discomfort.

“Oh,” Yamcha commented with a confused frown. “Well, here we are,”

“What were _you_ doing up here?” The blonde woman giggled suggestively. “Taking care of some _quick_ newlywed business?”

“No,” Yamcha responded quickly, looking at the floor in embarrassment that not only had she suggested that, but that she wasn’t technically wrong. That _had_ been Bulma’s intention. “Bulma was not feeling great and thought she might be ill, but she seems to be fine now, right dear?" 

“Yes,” she nodded quickly, making sure to avoid eye contact with Vegeta completely.

“Is there anything one of us can get for you to alleviate your symptoms?” Vegeta asked smoothly, not missing a beat, but his eyes danced with mischief and amusement.

_That. Fucking. Bastard!_ Was all she could think in that moment. She shook her head as she tried to keep her facial expression neutral. He _knew_ she was hot and bothered over watching him and this woman rut in the room mere minutes ago. Who even _did_ that?! And in someone else’s _home_! She was actually quite horrified now that her arousal had subsided somewhat. “No, thank you,” she managed to say.

“Why were you looking for us?” Yamcha asked.

“You’d wanted Bulma to meet Lazuli,” Vegeta said, gesturing to the beautiful blonde mystery woman beside him.

_That_ was his wife? Bulma thought to herself, unsure if she felt foolish, jealous or what. She’d been sure that hadn’t been his wife she’d seen him with. The woman was stunning! Why would he have need to fool around and seduce other women when his own wife was beautiful and obviously just as adventurous and crude as he was.

“Very nice to meet you,” Lazuli said politely. “Congratulations on your marriage, you’re a lucky woman. Yamcha is _such_ a gentleman!”

Perhaps he was a little _too much_ of a gentleman, she thought in dismay at her current predicament. “Thank you. It’s very nice to meet you as well,” Bulma replied, carefully scrutinizing the other woman, who she estimated wasn’t much older than herself.

“I’ll have you over once you’re settled,” she offered. “I know how busy Yamcha is and how much he travels. I’ll show you around town and make sure you don’t get too lonely,”

“Thank you,” Bulma smiled. “I’d like that.”

“See? Was that so bad?” Yamcha chuckled at her. “I told you you’d have no issues finding friends here.”

“Right,” she nodded, still not looking at Vegeta. She knew he was still fixated on her and it was now making her extremely uncomfortable. She hoped he would not tell Yamcha or his _wife_ that she’d been watching them just now. Something told her he wouldn’t do that though. Tormenting her by making subtle innuendos and sending suggestive glances her way seemed to be more his style.

“Well with that settled, why don’t we go get some dinner?” Yamcha announced. “It should be close enough to being ready that we should all take our seats. Lazuli, why don’t you sit with Bulma and you two can get to know each other.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lazuli nodded, stepping forward and linking her arm with Bulma’s. “Let’s get a glass of wine and get ready for dinner,”

Bulma just nodded politely and didn’t say anything as she went with Lazuli. She felt awkward going along with her, knowing she’d just seen her writhing on a table and fondling herself with her husband’s face between her legs… _Good god, stop it!_ She chastised herself mentally as the image of the scene she’d inadvertently walked in on replayed in her mind and she felt her stomach flip in desire.

They, along with all the other guests, sat down together for dinner in the huge dining room. Yamcha at the head of the table, Bulma seated beside him on his right, Lazuli seated beside her and unfortunately Vegeta sitting across from her and on Yamcha’s left. She managed to avoid eye contact with Vegeta for most of dinner. Lazui seemed really nice, which relieved her. She didn’t make her feel uncomfortable the way her husband seemed to. She knew he’d been watching her off and on during their meal, more than likely trying to catch her eye. She’d been clever though as she took her own discreet glances at him. _God damn_ , was he handsome! That wasn’t helping her any. If they had both been single, she’d have been very interested in him. Sadly however, that wasn’t the case.

Why couldn’t her mother have found someone like him to marry her off to? Yamcha wasn’t a bad guy at all, but they had nothing in common. She barely knew the man. Sure he was polite and considerate and he had already put forth the effort in spoiling her, but they had no emotional or even physical connection and he didn’t seem bothered by that fact at all. Not that she didn’t find Yamcha attractive; she did, but he was so… _boring._ Their marriage was nothing more than a business transaction and she was stuck with him.

Bulma briefly wondered if that was the same for Vegeta and Lazuli, but then decided that couldn’t be the case. The two openly flirted with one another, dropping the odd innuendo here and there. Not to mention she had _proof_ that they obviously enjoyed each other. So then why did he have such a bad reputation as a womanizer when he was married to the perfect woman? It didn’t make sense to her, but she assumed if Lazuli was going to spend time with her while Yamcha was away, she’d find out sooner or later what the deal was. Did she know of his supposed bad reputation Yamcha had warned her about?

She was brought out of her thoughts as Vegeta made eye contact with her. _Shit!_ She thought in embarrassment. He’d caught her staring at him. He smugly smirked at her and she sent him back a quick scowl before looking away. The last thing she wanted to do was fuel his obvious obnoxiously over inflated ego. She only hoped he would not be around much when she hung out with Lazuli in Yamcha’s absence.

Bulma had a bad feeling sinking in her gut that she’d be in _big_ trouble if he was around a lot and suddenly Yamcha’s warning didn’t seem so ridiculous after all. 

The rest of dinner passed without incident. She cringed inwardly as Yamcha forced her to stand up with him while he gave a speech about how thankful he supposedly was for such a beautiful bride, joking about how _it was about time_ he settled down. Bulma didn’t really pay attention except to make sure she didn’t look at Vegeta. She did not want to encourage him.

After that, dessert was served and it wasn’t long until guests started leaving and Bulma was finally able to excuse herself for the night. About an hour or two later, Yamcha stumbled into bed, somewhat tipsy.

She lay there for a moment, waiting to see if he would instigate anything, but he didn’t. She was still turned on and wanted some form of relief; maybe this time it wouldn’t be unpleasant and she’d enjoy herself. After waiting a few minutes, she rolled on her side so she was facing him; he seemed to be asleep already. She deliberated for a moment and then decided to be bold and put her cheek on his shoulder and slid her hand through the covers and on to his groin outside his pajama pants.

He didn’t respond, so she began rubbing him slowly.

“Hmmm,” he moaned. “Not now,”

“Mmm?” she mumbled back playfully, not stopping. “Why not?”

“Tired,” he grunted.

“So?”

“What has gotten into you this evening?” he asked with a slight slur in his voice. He had drunk far too much whiskey that evening.

“Nothing,” she shrugged. “Just want to be intimate with my husband,”

Yamcha laughed. “Tomorrow,” he yawned, turning over. “I’m drunk and tired.”

Bulma clenched her teeth and held her breath in disappointment a moment before rolling over herself and laying there in frustration until she finally fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The day after the gathering, Yamcha gave Bulma the full tour of his immaculate home. He had a personal office where he wrote a lot of his speeches and did most of his reading. There was a sitting room for casual visits with guests; typically used for unannounced visitors. It had a door and included a beautiful outdoor veranda overlooking the beach not far from his home.

The room Bulma had discovered Vegeta and Lazuli frolicking in was apparently the library and used as an alternative entertainment room for smaller, less elaborate gatherings, as there was a piano in there as well.

“What’s happened here?” Yamcha asked with a frown as he noticed there were deep gouges in the hardwood floor beneath the small table Vegeta and Lazuli had occupied. Bulma shrugged and quickly turned away as she felt her face grow red again from the memory of what had happened there last night. She pretended to be extremely engrossed in the vast book collection on the shelves. “Roshi? Did someone drag this table across the room?”

“Not that I am aware of,” Roshi answered as he came into the room to inspect the damage. “Hmm, those are quite the gouges. It wasn’t there yesterday when I was straightening things out in here. You sure no one was in here during the gathering last night?”

“Not that I’m aware,” Yamcha answered, seemingly forgetting entirely that they’d briefly run into Vegeta and Lazuli right before dinner. “Just please be more careful when you are cleaning.”

“Well it wasn’t me, but I’ll take more care from now on,” Roshi nodded before leaving the room.

“If there are any books that interest you, please feel free to take whatever you want, just be sure to return them to their proper place,” Yamcha went on.

“I will,” she nodded, though most of them were history books from the look of it. “What’s in here?” she asked, referring to a large wooden chest in front of his desk with a lock on it.

“Oh, that would be of no interest to you, my dear,” he chuckled. “I store my guns away in there,”

“Oh,” she nodded. “You don’t display them? My father displays some of his in his work shop. He says it’s mainly so he remembers to regularly clean them, but I think he’s proud of them. If my mother would allow him, he would display them in the sitting room of our house; but she hates guns.”

“As she should,” he exclaimed. “What lady would want guns hanging around, displayed in her house?”

Before Bulma could offer her opinion, they were interrupted then by Baba. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, however I have an invitation from Mr. Satan. His daughter Videl, the esteemed pianist, is in town and he has requested you both be invited tonight for an informal, private concert this evening to both welcome the new missus as well as make up for his absence from the celebration last night. I will need a quick decision on whether or not you plan to attend as his messenger, Boo, is here and awaiting your immediate reply.”

Bulma blushed, feeling uncomfortable. It was odd to her that someone would feel the need to make up for missing their get together last night; though it was a kind gesture.

“What would you like to do?” Yamcha asked her.

“It is up to you,” she deferred to him.

“Not today,” he said. “The invitation is primarily for _you_ , my dear. If you are feeling up to it, we shall go. Mr. Satan is a very good friend of mine, as you’ll soon get to know him. He is rather eccentric, but altogether harmless. His daughter, Videl is something of a musical prodigy; extremely talented. She’s been writing symphonies since she was as young as about seven or eight, I do believe? She tours so much that she’s rarely home, so it is a rare treat that she is playing for a small audience at her father’s home. Do not feel embarrassed by the invitation, I can assure you, not to diminish his kind intentions any, but he would be holding this evening’s event whether he had been able to attend last night or not.

“Mr. Satan is quite the entertainer and is well known for throwing very lavish parties in his home; any excuse will do. Having his daughter, his pride and joy, home for a few days is enough of a good reason for him and he loves to showcase her incredible talents.”

“So I would not be putting her out then?” Bulma asked.

“Not in the least,” he assured her. “You’ll need to get used to receiving last minute invitations like these; many are thrown together at the last second. Feel free to attend as many as you wish in my absence on my behalf,”

That she would be expected to attend these gatherings when he was away had not occurred to her.

“Unless you’d rather be a hermit up here, all alone. It would be quite easy since our location is situated somewhat rural by comparison to everyone else. I do like my privacy. However I don’t advise you keep entirely to yourself, you’ll grow bored. Not to mention it will help immensely with my plans if the local people know you as well as me. I want you to be a part of this _with_ me, not just be the pretty young thing I happened to marry.”

Bulma retained a small smile as she listened to him. “In that case, I’d be happy to attend this evening and I will not disappoint you while you are away, which you have not told me when you might be leaving,”

“Right. I will be leaving tomorrow afternoon,” he informed her.

“So soon?” She exclaimed. “We just arrived here the day before yesterday!”

“The Russian Prince is in Germany, staying in Berlin. He and his lovely wife have asked me to be their guide. It will not be for long, a week or so at the most, and then I will return.”

Bulma’s heart sank in disappointment. “Can I not accompany you, though?” she asked. “The Prince has brought his wife. Surely I can socialize with her?”

“It is best you remain here and settle yourself in,” he said. “Well then, I suppose we have a gathering to prepare for. Choose something nice to wear. Not too formal, but not casual. However perhaps something a little more _elegant_ than what you wore last night,”

Bulma wasn’t sure what he meant by that; she loved the red dress she’d worn last night. It was a bit more modest, however she wasn’t the type to leave herself exposed for everyone to gawk at. At that, she wondered if Vegeta would be in attendance this evening as well. _Hopefully not,_ she told herself. While he had excited her, she’d felt indecent around him and as her stomach flipped yet again at the memory of the feral way in which he’d looked at her, she still knew deep down in her gut if she did not watch herself, she would get herself in a mountain of trouble with him.

In the end, she chose a sky blue dress, a few shades lighter than her hair, with a modest neckline and plenty of frills and lace on the bodice and skirts. She put her mid-back length hair half up and curled the rest that hung down in a feminine cascade of loose curls. She kept her makeup light and was ready to go. If she was to be the wife of a politician, she wanted to look respectable and proper, not showy, trashy or immature.

“Not what I had in mind, but you look beautiful as always,” Yamcha smiled at her and off they went to their first official engagement as a married couple.

* * *

They arrived at Mr. Satan’s mansion on time.

“It’s great to have you! I’m sorry I missed your shindig last night, but I had to pick up Videl from the train station and the train was delayed; by the time we made it back home, it was really late,” Mr. Satan said graciously.

“It’s quite alright, no apology needed,” Yamcha smiled. “Thank you for having us.”

“No problem! Thanks for coming on such short notice! I didn’t even realize my Videl had a week off until a few days ago!” he explained. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Bulma! If you ever need anything while Yamcha is on his travels, don’t hesitate to call on me!”

“Why thank you, that’s very kind of you!” Bulma smiled. “I look forward to seeing your daughter play, Yamcha spoke very highly of her.”

“Well of course!” he smiled proudly. “Videl is extremely talented and very much loved throughout all of Europe. You’ve never heard of her?”

“I can’t say that I have, however I come from a very small town,” she replied. “It’s kind of obscure, so we don’t hear a lot of the current music or see the latest fashion trends,”

“Well you’re in for a real treat!” he boasted proudly. “Please, grab a drink, mingle and make yourselves comfortable. Dinner will be served soon!”

They smiled at their host and Yamcha led Bulma over to where there was someone serving drinks; they both got a glass of red wine to start.

Bulma looked around the room quickly, scanning for a certain distinct flame-shaped hairstyle, but did not see it and felt a mixture of both disappointment and relief. The relief she understood, but she inwardly chastised herself for feeling disappointed.

Yamcha brought her with him, introducing her to people she had not met last night at their place. Once again, Bulma zoned out after she answered the same questions about herself over and over again and the conversation was inevitably steered towards political things and she was forgotten about.

The general consensus about Bulma was generally positive, however most of the people there felt she dressed and acted far too mature for her age; however at least she was pretty and she and Yamcha made for an exceptionally attractive couple.

Of course, luck wasn’t on Bulma’s side; about a half hour later, Vegeta and Lazuli arrived to the gathering.

Bulma immediately pretended like she had not seen them and acted as though she were engrossed in the conversation Yamcha was having with the older gentleman about something political of which she had no knowledge of and nothing to contribute.

Fortunately, within a few minutes she couldn’t spot Vegeta in her peripheral vision and hoped he was off visiting with someone else or maybe off doing naughty things with his wife in another room somewhere; she didn’t care. She just wanted to try and enjoy the evening. As it was, she was stressed out hoping she was making a good impression.

“Alright, it looks like everyone is here,” Mr. Satan announced. “Now this is an informal dinner, so the main course has been set up on the dining room table; grab as much as you like and bring it back to the main living room, where Videl will play for us. Sit wherever you like, go back for seconds or thirds; eat and drink as much as you want, there’s enough to feed and get an entire army drunk! Now let’s eat!”

“I am going to go and find us a place to sit where we can eat comfortably and don’t have to stand, will you bring me something?” Yamcha asked her.

Bulma didn’t really want to be left alone here, but nodded at his request; she wasn’t sure how big the living room was and there were quite a few people there. Yamcha saving them a spot was probably a good idea. “Of course, what do you want me to bring? I’m not sure what they are serving,” also, she still didn’t have a good idea of what his likes and dislikes were when it came to food.

“Surprise me,” he shrugged. “Though if there is the option of whiskey over wine, I’ll have whiskey.”

“Alright,” she nodded.

“The dining room is that way, where everyone is going and the living room is just through these doors and that way,” he informed her, pointing in the direction of the living room.

“I think I can find my way around,” she smiled, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Not here, dear,” Yamcha scolded her gently.

“Sorry,” she mumbled and abruptly left to go and grab him some food. Was it so bad to _want_ to show him some affection? She felt like she was doing something wrong and wasn’t sure what she _should_ be doing. Wasn’t she supposed to be trying to form a good relationship with her husband? What did he really want her to do? Since they’d been married, she found she rather _did_ like Yamcha. He was kind and intelligent. While they had very different interests and a huge age gap to contend with, that didn’t seem to be a huge problem most of the time. They were able to visit and carry on long, meaningful conversations together. Of course a lot of the time Yamcha was educating her about politics and the local history and such, but she didn’t mind that. However beyond that, there seemed to be nothing there between the two of them and that frustrated her.

She didn’t notice Vegeta come up beside her as she was loading up the plate intended for Yamcha.

“Greetings,” he said to her.

“Greetings,” she replied somewhat nervously, not wanting to look at him. If she did, she was certain her face would turn red.

“How was the remainder of your evening?” he asked casually and she knew what he meant.

Unfortunately it had been uneventful and not as interesting as _his_ evening, however she wasn’t going to tell him that. “It was fine,” she answered nonchalantly and quickly finished loading up Yamcha’s plate before he could say anything suggestive about the previous evening. She was still embarrassed that she’d not had the good sense to turn and leave when she’d realized what was going on in the other room.

She asked one of the servers for a glass of whiskey and made her way to go and find Yamcha, who she found sitting at a longer table with Lazuli. _Fucking great!_ She thought to herself. Of course they’d be sitting with them!

“Bulma!” Lazuli greeted her. “So nice to see you! I was hoping you’d be here tonight.”

“It’s nice to see you as well, Lazuli,” Bulma smiled, giving Yamcha his meal. “At least it’s nice to have a familiar face,”

“There’s a few here, Bulma,” Yamcha said.

“Right, but I didn’t socialize with them as much as I did Lazuli last night,” she pointed out.

“True,” he nodded, digging into his meal.

As she saw Vegeta approaching with his meal, she decided that now was a good time to grab herself some food and excused herself, sparing Vegeta a brief glance as she passed him.

Bulma took her time choosing her meal so she wouldn’t have to rush back to where Yamcha was sitting with Vegeta. As she was filling her plate, she noticed the person beside her was obnoxiously scraping the garnish off one of the fancy looking dishes and onto their own plate. As she looked up in irritation, wondering who would be so rude as to do that, she realized it was Vegeta beside her, _again._ “Didn’t you get food already?” she asked, holding back a sigh of annoyance that he was obviously either stalking her or trying to make her uncomfortable.

“I am a gentleman who brings food to his wife, rather than sending her to fetch food for myself,” he scoffed.

“I don’t know my way around the house, Yamcha wanted to make sure we had a decent place to sit and eat comfortably during the concert instead of having to stand,” she defended her husband, though she understood his position on the matter. The living room hadn’t been difficult to find from where they’d originally been.

“I see,” he commented, moving on to another elaborately decorated plate and began removing the garnish and putting it on his own plate.

“What are you _doing_?” she asked in horror as she watched him.

“Serving myself my dinner,” he replied casually.

“That’s a garnish,” she pointed out. “Same with that other stuff you took. You can’t do that!”

“Says who?” he snorted. “Your _mother_?”

Bulma found herself unable to answer immediately as she thought about that. Her mother would be appalled to see someone doing what he was doing. “It is just bad manners,” she simply said. “It’s not for eating and now you ruined the presentation of these meals.”

“They’re my appetizer before I come back for my main course,” he shrugged. “Besides, if they weren’t meant to be eaten, why would the garnishes be edible?”

“I don’t know!” she hissed, watching him desecrate another beautifully presented dish. “I didn’t make the rules, but it’s just not good etiquette! Everyone knows that.”

Vegeta chuckled at her in amusement that she’d be so annoyed with something so silly. “Maybe I _like eating_ things I am not _supposed_ to have,” he said suggestively. “What’s the point in living otherwise?”

Bulma refrained from snorting at him, not missing the innuendo, and turned to leave before he said something else to make her blush and feel uncomfortable. She needed to not be around him and so she took a seat next to Yamcha at the table. Lazuli was gone, had already finished her meal and had migrated elsewhere. She hoped Vegeta would decide he’d had his fun tormenting her and eat elsewhere since his wife had moved on.

She didn’t know what came over her, but she felt light headed and her stomach would churn pleasantly whenever she was near him or whenever he’d look at her or speak to her. It wasn’t good. Well, it _was_ and that was the problem. She knew she was treading on dangerous waters, but a part of her didn’t want to find her way back to the safe zone and that was concerning to her.

Vegeta sat down diagonally across the table from her with nothing but garnishes on his plate. He did not say anything to her, however reached forward and placed a glass of white wine down in front of her. “I noticed you did not bring yourself back a beverage,” he said when she looked at him curiously.

“I forgot,” she said with a smile. “Thank you,”

“I’ve asked Vegeta and Lazuli to look out for you while I am away,” Yamcha said. “Make sure you’re alright and settling in okay and meeting people.”

“We will both make it a priority,” Vegeta confirmed. “It must be difficult having traveled so far and not know anyone. Your husband should be sticking around a little while longer to spoil his new bride,”

“Yes, I know,” Yamcha sighed. “She’s already quite unhappy with me, but I think I’ve spoiled her sufficiently on our honeymoon, wouldn’t you agree, Bulma?”

“Yes, quite,” she nodded. “However it would be nice if you stayed a little longer to help me settle in _or_ I could accompany you on your travels,”

“You would be bored and we had this discussion,” Yamcha said with finality. “You’ll be fine here,”

Vegeta didn’t miss the indignant look she shot Yamcha as he continued to eat, not noticing himself. While Vegeta found this particularly amusing, a small part of him felt pity for her. He’d known Yamcha a long time; they had gone to war together. He was an honest and kind hearted, upstanding man, however dim as a post when it came to women; always had been. Apparently being married to someone as young and beautiful as Bulma hadn’t changed anything. “I do not mean to pry in matters of which are obviously _not_ my place, but are you certain your _business_ cannot wait?” he asked. “I mean I myself know that I would not be so quick to leave a young bride at home all alone so soon after being newly married. Especially in that huge, dull, empty home of yours.”

“Yes, well as nice as that would be, and I am very well aware where your _priorities_ lie, Vegeta, I am afraid that I must regretfully leave a little earlier than what would be ideal,” Yamcha replied. “I am fortunate enough to have good friends like Lazuli and yourself to make sure she’s well looked after and amused in my absence.”

Bulma had finished her meal and decided check out what was for dessert. As Yamcha and Vegeta bickered on her behalf over what was good for her or not, she quietly slipped away, unnoticed. Though she was surprised that Vegeta seemed to be defending her position on the matter and questioned his intentions behind being so adamant that Yamcha stay with her. It all annoyed her nonetheless and instead of giving Yamcha the benefit of the doubt in ensuring she wasn’t lonely, she felt resentment that he’d asked friends of his to keep her _amused_ in his absence. He obviously saw her as nothing more than a child and that made her angry. If he felt that way, why had he married her? If he wanted her to be a _part_ of his future political plans, as he’d indicated, why was he leaving her behind?

The rest of the evening passed by without incident and Vegeta minded his manners instead of dropping inappropriate innuendos at every opportunity, however he never did leave her on her own, even when Yamcha left their table to mingle and it seemed quite clear that he had no intention of returning to include Bulma in his rounds; though they did not speak, simply enjoyed the concert that Mr. Satan’s daughter, Videl was putting on.

The music was very beautiful and there were several couples that had begun dancing a while back. Bulma would have liked to have asked Yamcha if he would dance with her, had he still been sitting with her, or had the thought of checking in on her, but he was nowhere to be found. She didn’t thank Vegeta for not leaving her alone, but she did appreciate him staying. His silent company was somewhat comforting.

“Where is Lazuli?” she asked him finally, feeling like she was being rude not talking with him.

“Who knows,” he shrugged, unconcerned. “She’s around somewhere,”

“She does not like to dance?” she asked.

“She does,” he nodded. “On occasion. Would you like another drink?”

“Sure,” she smiled at him. There was nothing else to do.

When he left, she took the opportunity to stand and see if she could locate Yamcha to ask if he’d like to dance with her, but was unsuccessful. Frowning to herself, she sat back down.

“He is in the smaller room having whiskey and cigars with some of the stuffy old men,” Vegeta said to her as he came back to the table with a glass of white wine for her and a glass of whisky for himself.

“Talking politics, I assume?” she asked, though it struck her as interesting that he’d noticed her briefly looking for her husband.

“I’d assume,” he replied. “Would you like me to go and get him?”

“No,” she shook her head. “That’s fine. Thank you for the wine,”

He noticed her watching the other couples dancing longingly as he sat down beside her. “Would you like to dance?” he asked her.

Bulma turned and looked at him immediately. _Yes,_ she wanted to answer, but knew it wasn’t a good idea. “I am married,” she declined, even though she’d like nothing more.

“So am I,” he shrugged.

“I would like to, but Yamcha says people talk a lot here and rumors are easily started,” she clarified. Though part of the reason was, she was afraid if he touched her, she’d fall into him and never want to go home with her own husband. Vegeta may have been lewd and obnoxious, but he’d been more attentive to her in the two times she’d met him than her own husband had been since they’d been engaged and married. “I don’t want to do anything to make him look bad for his campaign.”

Vegeta snorted. “Half the fools here are drunk or too busy talking and back slapping each other over how wonderful they are,” he pointed out. “Admit it, you’re bored and would like to dance. Your husband has charged me with ensuring your wellbeing while he is away, I am certain he will not mind if you shared a simple dance with me at a social function among friends,”

Bulma took a sip of her wine and looked at him. _Damn_ he was so handsome, she thought. He was awfully convincing. “Lazuli won’t mind?”

“Where is my wife?” he asked her, looking around. “She is nowhere to be found, so I would suspect she cares less,”

_How sad,_ she thought to herself that apparently he was in a similar predicament that she herself was in. “Alright,” she nodded. “Just _one_ dance though and if we get into trouble, I’m blaming you,”

“I like trouble,” he smirked, standing up and offering her his hand.

The moment she took his hand, her stomach flipped pleasantly and she felt a warm blush travel up from her chest to her ears and hoped no one, Vegeta especially, noticed it. She allowed him to lead her to the small area that the other couples were dancing and happened to catch a glimpse of Yamcha in the other room carrying on a serious conversation with three other older gentlemen. She willed for him to glance up and notice her, but he didn’t.

Vegeta placed a hand on her hip and drew her close, preparing to waltz with her. They danced together in silence for some time in a slow, graceful waltz in tune to the piano music and Bulma began to relax as she noticed that Vegeta had been correct; everyone here was either drunk or too self-involved with their own conversations to even notice any of the couples dancing. As she began to relax, she realized what a good time she was having and wondered why her mother hadn’t chosen someone closer to her age, like Vegeta to be her husband? When he wasn’t giving her a hard time with suggestive innuendos and looks, he actually wasn’t the worst. She then realized she didn’t know how old he was. She herself was eighteen, Yamcha was thirty-eight. She estimated that Vegeta had to be in his mid to late twenties.

“How old are you?” she asked him suddenly, as it was on her mind and she was curious.

“How forward of you,” he smirked. “How old do you _think_ I am?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I am sorry, it was rude of me to ask,”

“I am thirty,” he answered.

“Quite a bit younger than Yamcha,” she commented.

“Too young for you, I suppose?” he joked.

She glared at him. “Not funny,”

“I think it is funny,” he smirked at her. “You are married to a man twice your age,”

“Yes, well, that’s life,” she sighed. “You are a wonderful dancer, by the way,” she added, wanting to change the subject.

“As are you,” he replied.

Now that she wasn’t so self-conscious and worrying about what other people may think and was actually enjoying herself, she actually looked at Vegeta. He _was_ devastatingly handsome. He was shorter than Yamcha and closer to her height. His features were sharp, but not in an unpleasing way. His firm jawline and full lips made her wonder what it would be like to kiss him and instead of dismissing the thought, she let her mind wander as she couldn’t help but stare intently at him as she fantasized about it. She decided then he was probably a fantastic kisser, not that she had much experience in that department; Yamcha had been the only one to kiss her and it wasn’t often and sadly there was no passion or heat behind it. If Vegeta kissed her, she wondered if she would set on fire or be able to think straight again. Her first impression of him last night had been that he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen; that impression still held true she realized as her stomach fluttered several times over as he gave her the same smouldering look of assessment he had last night; she knew then she had not just imagined it last night.

“He’s barely touched you since you’ve been married, hasn’t he?” he asked her in amusement as though able to sense her desirous thoughts.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied in embarrassment.

“Yes, you do,” he insisted casually. “How is he?”

She looked at him, wide eyed in shock that he’d be so casually forward by asking her such an intimate question with _other_ people so nearby that if anyone had been paying attention, they’d have heard and understood what they were talking about. “He’s _fine,_ ” she snipped, going back to focusing on another corner of the room as helped her around the dance floor, hoping her face wasn’t too red from mortification.

“Just _fine_?” he asked in a tone that indicated he was enjoying very much being the cause of her obvious uncomfortableness at the moment.

“Yes,” she said firmly, wishing he would change the subject; it was making her think all sorts of inappropriate things involving the handsome _married_ man dancing with her, provoking her. She braved a look at him and when she made eye contact with him, he raised an eyebrow at her, clearly not believing her.

“If you were my bride, I certainly would not be leaving you two days after arriving at my home,” he said.

“Yes, you made that point already,” she snapped at him.

“I will ensure Lazuli comes to visit you,” he said. “All jokes aside, if you require anything in your husband’s absence, please let me know.”

She was about to reply with a cutting remark, assuming he was being suggestive, however his tone seemed sincere. “I will, thank you,” she said instead, though was not sure if she’d feel comfortable asking him for anything when she couldn’t look at or speak to him without feeling light headed and she was _certain_ he knew that.

They danced a little while longer before going back to their table to finish their drinks when Lazuli finally returned. “You guys still sitting here?” she asked, sipping her drink, looking somewhat tipsy.

“We did dance for a little while,” Bulma admitted, feeling that to not tell the other woman upfront would make it seem like they had done something wrong. “You should dance with him, he’s a great dancer.”

“Oh, I _know_ he is _,_ ” she chuckled, wagging her eyebrows suggestively at him. “Are you planning on staying here longer or are you ready to head home?”

“What are your plans?” Vegeta asked her.

“I’m ready to leave and can hitch a ride home now, though I may not head home right away,” she replied.

“After party?” Vegeta asked with interest.

“You could say that,” she said with a smirk. “You don’t want to come? It could be _interesting_ ,”

Vegeta mulled it over a moment. He _was_ curious about where she was going and who with; it wasn’t often she invited him to come with her when she found someone to leave with and he wondered if she meant it or if she was only asking to seem polite in front of Bulma. “I am content to remain here. Bulma’s husband seems to have abandoned her this evening.”

“Aren’t you the knight in shining armor,” she teased him, rolling her eyes. She knew this was part of the seduction game he played when he’d set his sights on some unsuspecting girl. How he didn’t find that boring as a church sermon, she’d never know. She was surprised he was still interested in her, however. She not only seemed _nice,_ but she seemed intelligent as well. _Most_ of the girls he played this game with were idiots. This one clearly was not. In any case, it would be interesting to watch this play out one way or another _._ “I’m almost jealous of your attentiveness to her.”

“You don’t have to stay on my account,” Bulma said to him. Truthfully, she’d almost rather he did leave. Her mind was full of very inappropriate thoughts since they’d danced and he’d not so subtly inquired of hers and Yamcha’s private intimate life. She was still shocked that he’d been so forward to ask her such a thing and it worried her that he seemed to know and that confirming her dull love life to him had turned her on somewhat. However why had he felt the need to ask her such a personal question? If she wasn’t so mesmerized by him, she’d have been offended. “I’ll be fine here,”

“Would you like us to bring you home if you are ready to leave?” Lazuli asked her.

Bulma thought about it a moment. The piano concert had just come to an end a few minutes ago and Videl was surrounded by people thanking her for her performance; she felt the need to do the same. Maybe if the concert was over, that meant that everyone would go home soon. The thought of leaving Yamcha here without telling him she was going home was appealing, but she knew she could not go that. “I’ll stay here and wait for Yamcha to go home; thank you though.”

“Suit yourself,” Lazuli shrugged. “And you?” she asked Vegeta with a raised eyebrow.

“I will remain here,” he answered. “You go on ahead.”

“Alright then,” she shrugged. “I’ll be back either very late or first thing in the morning. It was nice to see you again, Bulma. I will make sure to have you over sometime soon,”

“You as well,” Bulma replied, standing up and giving the other woman a brief hug.

“Have fun,” Vegeta smirked at her.

“Oh, I shall,” she winked at him and left them there.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bulma told him, feeling guilty and flattered at the same time.

“It is no trouble,” he replied. “I am not ready to turn in for the evening and if I do leave, you’ll be stranded here all alone until your husband decides to leave, which could be for some time yet,”

“How noble of you,” she said, though she appreciated the gesture.

“I am going to go thank Videl for putting on such a beautiful concert,” Bulma said, standing up. “Would you like to come?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I have met her many times. I will go and see where that husband of yours is, however,”

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “You’ve put yourself out enough for my account for one evening,”

Vegeta smirked at her but left to go and find Yamcha. He found himself somewhat annoyed that Yamcha had been so inattentive to his new wife in a completely foreign setting. _This is going to be far too easy_ , he thought to himself with a shake of his head. He had barely done anything but give the poor girl some undivided attention for a few hours and she was already completely enamoured with him. It was a pity he already had a wife or asking Bulma to leave Yamcha and come away with him would have been ideal… for a little while, he amended. If he could do it over again, he wouldn’t tie himself down permanently to anyone.

“Thank you so much for playing for us tonight,” Bulma said to the young, petite black haired girl who looked younger than her when she had a spare second.

“It was my pleasure!” Videl beamed. “Thank you for coming.”

“Hopefully I will have the opportunity see you play again one day,”

“I am not in town very often, but I usually do something for my father’s friends when I am,” she said.

“Well thank you. It’s much appreciated and enjoyed by everyone, myself especially,” Bulma said. “I learned to play the piano as a girl, but I am not very good. I could never play like that, never mind write music of my own.”

“You’re too kind,” she giggled. “I am sure you don’t play that bad,”

Bulma laughed. “Well thanks again, you were amazing.”

Bulma made her way back to where she’d been sitting all night, surprised to see Yamcha and Vegeta standing there.

“I hear you want to leave?” Yamcha asked her.

“The concert is over,” she shrugged.

“There’s still lots of people to visit with,” he objected. “Please don’t tell me you just sat here all night,”

“Well, you did essentially abandon me,” she pointed out. “I would have liked to have had a few dances with you,”

“Bulma, I didn’t abandon you, I need to talk to some of my contributors,” he said. “I cannot spend every minute with you,”

Bulma held back a sigh. He _had_ completely ditched her. When he’d left, she’d been under the impression that he had gone to get himself another drink. He’d never returned. She knew he had people to talk to and discuss important matters with and that was alright, but he hadn’t even come back to check in on her or ask her if she’d wanted to mingle with him. The only reason he had come back was because Vegeta had gone to get him and this annoyed her. She’d been otherwise completely forgotten about.

“No, but it would have been nice if you’d come back and asked me if I’d _like_ to dance,” she pointed out.

“Well you could have asked Vegeta,” Yamcha chuckled, deferring to his friend. “He’s a better dancer than I am anyway,”

“I didn’t have to,” she said, surprised that he’d suggested such a thing, especially after warning her last night that Vegeta’s reputation as a womanizer could be potentially damaging to his political image. She has worried about her actions for nothing, apparently. “He asked me to dance and so we did,”

“Thank you for keeping my young wife entertained, Vegeta,” Yamcha smiled at his friend, seemingly unbothered. “I hope you weren’t too bored this evening.”

 “Not at all,” Vegeta shook his head and offered Bulma a small smile. “Your wife is a pleasure to be around.”

“That she is,” he agreed. “I suppose it is late. I need to be up early tomorrow to begin packing for my trip. Do you want to go home?”

“I am ready to go, if you are,” she nodded.

They said their goodbyes and thanks to Mr. Satan before leaving.

“Thank you for your company this evening,” she said discreetly to Vegeta as the three of them were waiting for their separate carriages to be brought to them. “I appreciated that.”

“Any time,” he smirked at her and gave her a heated gaze as he walked away when he saw his carriage coming first.

Bulma and Yamcha made it home in silence. Yamcha stayed up a little later to enjoy a whiskey and cigar, Bulma went straight to bed, though it took her some time to fall asleep. Regretfully, she realized that the reason was because if she’d still been single and met a man who had treated her the way Vegeta had this evening, minus the subtle inappropriate innuendos of course, she’d have been excited. Her stomach flipped in excitement and desire as she thought about him touching her and drawing her close as they’d danced. Although they had danced as proper and as innocently as anyone else there, to Bulma it was something more and once again found herself wondering what it would feel like to be kissed by him.

She fell asleep before her mind moved on to more inappropriate thoughts.

* * *

The next morning, both Yamcha and Bulma were up early.

“Are you certain I cannot come with you?” she asked as she watched him pack his things.

“Yes,” he said with a smile, pleased that she at least had wanted to spend time with him. “I need you here. You need to settle in. Besides, you’d be bored to tears. I have nothing but meetings and campaign stuff to do between showing the Prince and his wife a good time. What will you do all day?”

“What will I do all day here?” she countered.

“There’s _lots_ for you to do here,” he said. “For one, barely any of your things have been unpacked. Organize yourself. I want you to feel comfortable here, this is your home now.”

“That won’t take me long,” she pointed out. “I’ve been meaning to ask you though,”

“Anything to make my new, young bride happy.” He smiled at her, looking up from his suitcase a moment.

“Is there a room in the home I can have for myself?” she asked boldly, hopeful that he’d agree.

“For yourself?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t want to share a room?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” she shook her head, however that idea wasn’t unpleasant to her and she wished she’d thought of it! She hadn’t realized that had even been an option. “I more meant a room for me to have as a work shop, like my father has. Someplace I can work on little projects and inventions in my spare time,”

Yamcha exhaled heavily, blowing his breath so his cheeks puffed out. Her mother had warned him that she’d want to continue on with these absurd little projects she liked to immerse herself in. “I suppose,” he shrugged. “Just choose a small one. I don’t want you making a mess in the drawing room, or my office, or the sitting room; dirt and grease and tools laying everywhere,” he winced and her heart sank that apparently he’d give his new bride _anything_ but that. “Actually, now that I think of it, there’s a small storage room on the second floor you could have if you can clear it out… Actually, _there’s_ a project for you while I am away. You can clear out all the junk from that room, just don’t get rid of anything _expensive_ and you can have it.”

“I can’t go through your things,” she objected, feeling very uncomfortable with that.

“Sure you can,” he shrugged. “You’re the lady of the house and you seem to be a practical one at that, just toss anything that doesn’t seem to hold value.”

“Monetary, alright, but what about sentimental?” she asked.

“Anything you aren’t sure about, put it to the side and ask me when I return,” he said. “I believe Lazuli should be coming to visit you either today or tomorrow, make sure you are hospitable.”

Bulma sighed in defeat. _Great,_ she was essentially being ditched and her only possible companion was a woman who her first impression of was walking in on her being eaten out by her husband who couldn’t look at her without looking like he wanted to devour her.

“I thought you _liked_ Lazuli,” he said in concern.

“I _did._ It’s not that I didn’t like her, she seems very nice,” she rambled, though she decided that being honest with him may help her case. “I just… would rather accompany you. We still barely know each other. I feel as though I’m married to a stranger and am being cast aside as an inconvenience now that the wedding is over.”

“Don’t be silly!” he chuckled. “You are not an inconvenience. I won’t be gone _that_ long. We’ll barely see each other anyway while I am on the road; so you are better off here, in the comfort of my home, until I return. I will make it a priority to take a few weeks off to spend with you when I return. How’s that?”

Bulma held in another sigh of frustration at him. He had no clue who she was or what she needed to be happy; just like her mother. The decision was being made for her and she resented it. “I’d like to see more of the world. Can I not go on a tour of the cities you are going to while you are preoccupied?” she tried again.

“That would require a lot of planning, which I haven’t the time to arrange. Really, Bulma, do you detest it here so much that you would rather be bored in a hotel room all day for the next week?” he asked, and she could tell by his tone that he was getting frustrated with her.

“No,” she admitted. “I just don’t want to be alone, is all,”

“But you aren’t alone,” he insisted. “You’ll have Baba and Roshi and Lazuli will introduce you to her friends, so before long, you’ll have plenty of friends and won’t even have the time to miss me.”

He so didn’t get it. She didn’t want or particularly need a ton of friends. She wanted and craved companionship with her spouse. What was the point in being married if they were to barely see one another? How was she supposed to make the best of this situation that her mother had pushed her into if she wasn’t allowed to? “Right, well I guess I’ll see you when you get back then,”

“I’ll try to not be gone too long, dear,” he said, resuming his packing.

Bulma stood from where she had been sitting and quietly watched him a moment. He was completely preoccupied with what he was doing and she felt like she was doing nothing more than bothering him.

“Have a good trip,” she sighed and left their room without waiting for him to respond. She apparently had a storage room to clear out for herself and she needed something to occupy her mind before she sunk into a deep pit of despair that she was living the wrong life.

Yamcha didn’t so much as come to check on what she was doing or let Bulma know he was leaving; she was told of his departure by Baba, when it was time for lunch.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Bulma made herself busy almost immediately after Yamcha’s departure clearing out the mess that was the spare room she was given. A few days after Yamcha’s departure, Lazuli dropped by for a visit with Bulma.

“How are you holding up here in this huge home all on your own?” she asked once Baba had left them with their tea.

“It’s alright,” Bulma shrugged. “I’m keeping myself busy doing some reorganizing for him that I don’t think he’s done… ever.”

“Sounds dull,” Lazuli sighed. “I am having a get together at my place this weekend, you should come. It’s nothing too fancy, just a few people I know you haven’t met yet and thought you’d might like to meet.”

“Oh, I’m not sure,” Bulma replied. “I’m fine here,”

“Nonsense, I insist!” she exclaimed. “Yamcha asked Vegeta and myself to make sure you weren’t lonely and cooped up in here. If the biggest source of amusement you’ve found is reorganizing through Yamcha’s old crap, you desperately need to get out!  Come and meet a few people. It’s a rather casual affair too, so you don’t have to exhaust yourself getting all dressed up if you’d rather not, plus it’s not a stuffy snooty crowd, I promise.”

Bulma smiled lightly, “I’ll consider it, thank you for the invitation,”

“Don’t mention it,” she smiled. “I’ll expect you there,”

The two women finished their tea and went on to have a couple of glasses of wine. Bulma decided she rather liked Lazuli; she was forward and genuine, not fake. What you saw was what you got. She was dying to know more about Vegeta and how they had met and such. She was sure it had to be an interesting story, however she refrained from asking anything about him out of fear that it may come off as inappropriate.

“Well I do hope you come,” Lazuli said as she was putting her jacket on. “Don’t be shy, it’s just a few other couples coming, all of whom know Yamcha.”

“We’ll see,” Bulma smiled politely. Parties and gatherings were never really her favorite thing to begin with, never mind having to sit with people she didn’t know at all, however the thought of seeing Vegeta again was very appealing; she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since the gathering at Mr. Satan’s home. She knew it was silly, fruitless and childish, but the memory of touching him and dancing with him did make her stomach flutter in excitement still for some reason. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Don’t mention it,” she smiled. “Hopefully I’ll see you there.”

Lazuli departed and Bulma went back to the storage room to resume clearing it out in which she spent the next two days going through Yamcha's things and it was finally the weekend. Yamcha had not been exaggerating when he’d said this would be a massive project for her. It was years and years’ worth of junk that had been collected and stored away and seemingly forgotten about. The room was too small for her liking, no windows so lighting was going to be a problem; however it was better than nothing!

She tried to be thankful that she at least had a room of her own, but it was hard, being that the room was small and unsuitable for anything other than storage. “At least it’s _mine,_ ” she mumbled to herself as she pulled out another heavy box of Yamcha’s belongings on a bottom shelf.

It seemed to be nothing more than paperwork, correspondents, reports and other various documents pertaining to some of his previous missions while he’d been in some war or another. Once again, she wasn’t sure what was important and what wasn’t, though it was interesting snooping through a few of his things.

About ready to put the box aside to be put in Yamcha’s office for him to go through for himself, Bulma’s jaw dropped as she noticed an envelope with the very distinctive, unmistakable hand writing of her mother on the front.

She chewed the inside of her cheek as she looked at it a moment, debating on whether or not she should open it and read the letter.  “The hell with it,” she said to herself, opening it and making herself comfortable on the floor after refilling her glass of wine. She skimmed the letter briefly, it had definitely been written by her mother.

_My dearest Yamcha,_

_I hope this letter meets you well, I miss you terribly. Why have I not heard from you? It frightens me to think that something bad has happened to you._

_Things have been terribly dull around here, so I regretfully have nothing interesting to tell you this time except that I miss you and cannot wait for us to be married. All anyone wishes to discuss is the war. I am sick to death of hearing about it! The only thing it means to me is the longer it goes on, the longer it will be until we can be married._

_I realize you must be terribly busy, but please write to me so that I know you are alive and well. It has been over six weeks since your last letter and I am beginning to fear the worst, silly girl that I am._

_Love always,_

_Bunny_

Bulma rolled her eyes as she stuffed the letter back into its envelope and slid it back where she’d found it. Apparently he was as neglectful in corresponding regularly with her mother as he was when they'd gone to the get together the previous week. As she went through the other things in the box, she noticed several other letters from her mother, but did not care to open them up and read them.

For some reason it was odd to her that Yamcha had hung onto all of her mother’s letters after all these years and it further solidified in her mind that Yamcha absolutely had never gotten over her mother and likely never would, no matter what she did in an attempt to make him happy or build a healthy marriage.

Feeling more dejected and discouraged than she had since she’d heard she would be made to marry Yamcha, Bulma shoved the box away and sat on the floor as she quietly contemplated her situation and wondered if she would ever be good enough to compete with her mother for Yamcha’s affections. Upon further thought, the notion disgusted her. She shouldn’t have to feel the need to compete with her own mother for her husband’s affections and the more she thought about it, the more she felt like she’d been set up to fail, no matter what her mother claimed about having her future best intentions at heart. While she wanted to give Yamcha the benefit of the doubt that things may get better and easier; no doubt this was just as much a difficult transition and adjustment for him as it was for her, she still resented him for making her feel like she was nothing more than something on his already long to-do list. However if things didn’t get better, she decided she’d rather have been alone than be stuck like this.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Are you go out to the gathering this evening?” Baba asked her. “If so, it’s high time you started getting ready so that you may arrive on time.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know anyone other than Lazuli,” she replied. Truthfully, she’d forgotten all about the invitation from Lazuli from a few days back. She didn’t feel like she was in the mood to socialize now, however sitting around here moping about her predicament wouldn’t do her much good either, would it?

“Well that’s one person you know at least and going to this gathering would resolve your issue of not knowing anyone,” she advised. “I know this has been terribly difficult for you and I do feel for you. It cannot have been easy being told on such short notice that you are marrying a man much older than yourself, whom you barely know; and then have been moved here away from your family, married to a man who is so preoccupied with his professional life that he cannot make the time to cultivate a proper relationship with you right now,”

Bulma looked at her. That about summed it up perfectly.

“I promise, it will get easier, but moping around here waiting for Yamcha to return isn’t helping you either. You are young! Go out, make some friends, have a good time. Yamcha left both Vegeta and Lazuli with instructions to make sure you get out and about and become comfortable in the community.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she sighed, getting up from her spot on the floor.

“Sitting alone in this room all day can’t be good for you either,” she noted, looking around with a frown.

“I like it,” Bulma smiled, looking around. It wasn’t ideal, but it was _her_ own private space and that was all that mattered to her.

Bulma went back downstairs to their bedroom to figure out what she would be wearing. Lazuli had told her it was going to be fairly casual, so she wasn’t sure what to wear. She felt like wearing something pretty though. If she looked pretty, maybe she’d feel better about herself and maybe Vegeta would think she looked nice too, though she didn’t know what difference that would make; they were both off limits to each other.

She finally chose an off the shoulder, dark, royal blue gown that was fitted tightly in the bodice to just past her hips before flowing out in a subtle, delicate A-line. She supposed since it clearly wasn’t a ball gown, it could still be classified as _casual_. The neckline was straight across her collarbone and still modest, though a little more daring than she usually went with. The dress was off the shoulder, but had sleeves to her elbow and accentuated her delicate and petite figure, yet made her look curvy at the same time.

She did her cheeks and eye makeup a little bit darker than usual and decided to wear her hair down in loose, flowing curls.

Satisfied with her appearance, she asked Roshi get her carriage ready and within a half hour, she was on her way to Lazuli’s get together.

“I’m so glad you came!” Lazuli greeted her sincerely. “Come in! Make yourself comfortable, you look _stunning_ by the way, get a drink! There are a few people here already.”

“Thank you,” Bulma smiled as she entered their home. It was sleek and elegant. Not a lot of wall furnishings or area rugs like Yamcha’s home. She’d almost call it cold and impersonal, but it had a very modern, minimalist feel to it. 

Bulma followed Lazuli into the entertainment room where there were a few people already enjoying drinks and conversation.

“What would you like?” Lazuli asked her, beckoning for one of the servants to tend to their newest guest.

“I’m happy with wine,” Bulma said.

“Raditz,” Lazuli addressed the very handsome servant with long hair passed his shoulders pulled back into a ponytail. “Please grab Bulma a glass of wine,”

“Red or white?” he asked.

“White?” Bulma said with a shrug. “I’m really not fussy,”

“Sure thing,” he nodded and turned to leave.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Lazuli said. “I’m glad you did though. You get bored all on your own?”

“A little, yea,” she admitted, looked briefly around the room, noticing in disappointment that Vegeta was not present. “Thank you for the invite,”

“Don’t mention it!” Lazuli smiled. “Come meet some people!”

Lazuli introduced her to the two other couples that were there. They seemed nice enough, but did not have a lot to say to her once she’d introduced herself and answered their questions about where she was from, how she’d enjoyed married life so far and how long she’d been in town for. Content that the focus was not on her once the initial introductions had been made, she was content to just listen to the conversations about the room and contribute when appropriate.

At one point she found herself alone, on the other side of the room looking at the book collection on the shelf. There were many books; fictional classics and books on physics she’d recognized from her father’s own personal collection and she wondered who’s they were.

“You came,” she heard a smooth voice from behind her.

Bulma blushed crimson immediately at the sound of his voice. “I did,”

“I am surprised,” he admitted. “Lazuli said you were likely not coming.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she replied, turning to face him and her heart skipped a beat; he’d been standing closer to her than she’d thought. Of course he looked nothing short of delectable. The dramatic look of black suit and shirt and simply crimson tie made him look sexy, dangerous and sophisticated all at once and she had to be mindful not to stare at him.

“But…” he pressed in a low but playful tone, smirking at her as he moved closer yet to her.

“I had nothing better to do,” she replied rather flippantly, quickly turning away from him. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she’d come just to see him.

“I see,” he nodded, clearly not believing her. “You were not curious?”

“Curious?”

“Curious to see _my_ home,” he clarified. “Curious to see where Lazuli calls home, curious to know more about my life. Would you like to see the bedroom?”

“What? No!” she exclaimed in absolute mortification, feeling her face grow even warmer; she hoped she didn't look like a beet. He was right, she had wanted to see his home and know more about him and Lazuli.  She wasn’t sure if she was more embarrassed that her true intentions had been discovered, or validated that he had figured it out that she'd wanted to see him again and wasn’t put off by her curiosities and nosiness.

“Then why are you here?” he asked.

“Lazuli invited me,” she answered.

“She did,” he nodded. “At _my_ request.”

Bulma turned and looked at him in confusion.

“I asked her to invite you so that we might have some _quality time_ together,” he clarified.

“ _You_ asked her to invite me tonight?”

“I did,” he nodded once, stepping even closer to her, causing her to step back.

“I see,” she commented. “Well thank you for the invitation.”

“Don’t mention it,” he nodded. “Dinner is about to be served,” he told her as he turned and walked away.

Bulma felt her stomach flutter as she watched him leave.

Dinner was served in a large dining room. Everything was wonderful; the food, conversation, everything. Bulma was glad she’d decided to come out tonight. Eventually she discreetly excused herself to find a washroom and on her way back, curiosity took over her good sense. Instead of going back to the dining room where dessert was likely being served by this time, she wandered into another room thoughtlessly and found herself admiring a vast collection of guns, rifles and pistols displayed on one of the walls.

Guns had always fascinated her.

Bulma knew it was crossing a line, but she couldn’t help herself and picked up one of the more elegant looking pistols with a fairly long double barrel. It was still small enough not to be classified as a rifle. As she looked at it, _dying_ to take it apart and look at the mechanics of it, it crossed her mind that it was a very elegant weapon. Double barrel, beautiful carvings on the handle that appeared to be a rose on one side and a skull on the other. As she looked at it, she thought about how easily she could end her life with it… if only she knew how to load it.

The thought was appealing. She wouldn’t do it _here_ of course, but it was a thought. It would be quick and easy and fool proof. Put an end to her boredom and loneliness.

“Be careful with that,” she heard Vegeta’s voice close behind her, bringing an abrupt halt to her morbid thoughts. How long had he been observing her, she wondered, embarrassed that she had not heard him enter the room and had been caught snooping.

“I’m sorry, I was just looking,” she said, turning around to face him, but looking at the gun in her hand in shame. She knew it was bad manners on her part to be touching other people’s things in their home without permission.

“That’s quite alright,” he said, seemingly not annoyed by her snooping. It was, after all, not nearly as scandalous as rutting around with one’s wife in someone else’s home. “That one is loaded though, so be careful.”

“Oh,” she said in alarm, handing it to him, handle first.

“Do you shoot?” He asked, carefully taking the pistol from her.

“No,” she answered. “I always wanted to, but it’s not exactly _ladylike,_ ” she replied, wrinkling her nose and rolling her eyes as she mimicked her mother’s tone.

“I see,” he commented, putting it back up on the wall. “If you wish to learn, I’d recommend this one,” he suggested, handing her a much smaller, silver hand pistol with what looked like an ivory handle that almost looked feminine compared to the others. “Less kick back.”

Bulma took the small pistol from him carefully. “Is it…?”

“No, it is not loaded,” he shook his head. “None of them are, except for the one you just had,”

“Why is that?”

“If there happens to be an intruder in my home, what good is it having all these guns for protection and none of them loaded if I need them in an emergency?”

“I agree,” she nodded. “Yamcha has all of his stored away in a chest. I don’t even know where the key is,”

“Fool,” Vegeta snorted and she snapped her gaze at him in surprise that he’d insult him so easily in her presence. “He’s left you with virtually _no_ protection _?”_

“I guess not,” she shrugged. She hadn’t thought about it that way and just looked at the small gun in her hands in fascination; upon further examination, the handle was iridescent pearl, rather than ivory. “Do you clean them?” She asked, remembering her father used to take his guns out on rainy days and cleaned them. She was never allowed to help, however.

“All the time,” he smirked. “These are my _tools._ I need them to be in immaculate condition at all times. Who knows when that husband or yours will call me into service or a _job_ may come up.”

Bulma nodded in agreement. She desperately wanted to learn how to clean them and take them apart and examine how they worked. Learning to shoot one would make her happy too. She didn’t _dare_ ask him though.

“Would you like to assist me one of these days after one of my practice sessions?” He asked, sensing her desire. “I could teach you to shoot too.”

“I’d love that!” Her eyes lit up at the thought of it; being asked to do _anything_ other than to another boring tea party would change her world. However, she knew that was not a good idea. “Working with things of a mechanical nature is kind of my specialty. I helped my father invent things. I’ve always been curious about guns, but I probably shouldn’t,” she sighed.

“Why not?” he asked with a frown.

She shrugged, “Yamcha wouldn’t approve,”

“Yamcha is away for god knows how long on one of his ridiculous political campaigns,” he deadpanned.

“Does Lazuli shoot?” she asked, steering the subject away from her husband.

“Occasionally,” he nodded. “She’s actually a very good shot; but she’s usually out and about. Why? Would you come shooting if she was too?”

“Sure!” she smiled. That would make her much more comfortable. “Just so it wouldn’t cause a scandal. Yamcha says gossip around here is awful.”

“He did, did he?” he chuckled. “I suppose he is not wrong, however I couldn’t give a shit. People are going to talk anyway, regardless if it’s true or not. May as well give them something _worth_ talking about.”

Bulma felt herself turning red again . “I don’t want to put any tarnish on his name.”

“ _Right_ , wouldn’t want to ruin his blossoming political career,” he said, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

“You’re not exactly keen on my husband, are you?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “I only ask because the way he talks about you, he seemed to make it sound like the two of you are the best of friends, yet I can tell you disapprove of him.”

Vegeta shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to look out of the large bay window for a moment as he contemplated her question. “We’re friends,” he confirmed after a few moments. “ _Good_ friends. However I do not agree with his political aspirations. He is a decent general, I respect him on that front. However, he is not of strong enough character and far too honourable to be a politician, in my opinion. But I am nothing but a soldier, what do I know about politics?”

“Yamcha says you’re a brilliant soldier,” she said. “He says you’re the finest marksman he’s ever seen, that you’ve saved his life more times than he can count but you’re too modest to take credit for it.”

“It is true,” he said, turning around and leaning back on the window sill, looking at her for once in a way that didn’t make her shiver or feel like he was mentally undressing her. “I have saved his life many times, but I am not a modest man,”

“Then why do you never mention it or change the subject when he openly thanks you?” she asked curiously.

Vegeta shrugged, “Your husband is a nice man, but he is also extremely insecure.”

“Is he?” she asked in surprise.

“You haven’t noticed?” he snorted.

“Not really, no,” she admitted. “We don’t really know each other very well and he left right after we got married, so…”

“Hmmn,” just as he’d suspected; this was an arranged marriage, but where was the benefit to either of them? “Ask him one of these days how he got his promotion as general,”

Bulma nodded and stared at the small pistol still in her hand for several long seconds. She did not want to confide in him, but truthfully she felt there was no one else who _would_ understand. Not to mention that Vegeta knew her husband well. Maybe if she did, he could give her some insight about him that she did not know, or had not considered. She also worried that anything she said may get back to Yamcha, being that they were friends, but something told her that Vegeta was trustworthy and would not betray her confidence in such a way.

“I… You weren’t wrong,” she said to him nervously, deciding to take the chance and open up to him. There was no one else around to possibly hear their conversation.

“Wrong about what?” he asked, frowning lightly at her.

“About what you asked me,” she practically whispered. “When we danced together? About…”

“Oh,” he smirked in amusement at how embarrassed she was bringing that up. Her face was flushed and he found the fact that anything related to physical intimacy caused her such embarrassment to be very endearing. Normally he wouldn’t. Normally he would have written her off as a prude and likely moved his interests to someone more… open and adventurous or experienced, but he suspected her shyness on the matter had more to do with her own curiosity and inexperience than because she was put off. He decided to test the waters. “I know,”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And _how_ could you know such a thing?”

Vegeta shrugged. “I just _know_ ,” he replied evasively, enjoying the banter.

“That’s not an answer,” she pointed out.

“I know your husband well,” he admitted. “I have my suspicions, which are seldom wrong. The fact that he pays little to no interest to you while out in a public setting, means it is highly likely that he does not show you any at all in your own home, as usually people are _more_ attentive to their significant others in public than they are at home for mere appearances sake.”

“Huh,” she grunted. That was a very interesting, but accurate observation. “You’re not exactly wrong, though he doesn’t ignore me. He’s just not… interested in physical intimacy. Or he doesn’t seem to be. I don’t know, maybe I’m just terrible at it. I’ve been wondering what I’m doing wrong that he doesn’t _want_ me in that way… or romantically and I’m sorry I should not have said that.”

He tipped his head attentively as he listened to her ramble nervously. Despite his own selfish, bad motives, he once again felt pity for her. The girl desperately wanted to be true to her husband, but her husband didn’t see it for some reason he could not understand. Clearly she was no dumb, young, easy fool to take advantage of. This was a girl who felt trapped and desperately wanted to do the right thing, but she was drowning in the need for attention and affection and not getting it from the person who should have been nurturing it and returning. Realizing that made him feel like it somehow wasn’t right preying on her, even though he found himself very much attracted to her.

“I am certain there is nothing wrong with you,” he said somewhat awkwardly. He had several amusing retorts, but refrained, feeling that to do so would be insensitive of him, seeing as she was telling him something in confidence, not flirting or coming onto him. However, comforting women was not exactly his strong suit unless it was in the bedroom. It wouldn’t be the first time he used that to his advantage to get a woman into his bed. However, he would ot do that tonight.

“Then why doesn’t he _want_ me?” she asked, feeling herself beginning to get emotional.

“I do not know,” he shook his head, not knowing what to say to her. He wanted to touch her and draw her in close; it would be so easy to sweep in and win this little game he had started, but something held him back; so he kept his distance as he decided what to do. Her intent wasn’t to seduce him and yet he almost wanted that. He knew she was attracted and drawn to him, but she was far too proper to act on it.

“I have tried and tried and he would almost rather do anything else _but_ touch me! What I saw in the library that evening with you and Lazuli, I’d damn near kill to have that kind of relationship with him and yet he will not have it,” she ranted. “You’re his friend. Can’t you give me some advice?”

There it was. _That_ was why she was telling him all this. Vegeta shook his head. The only advice he had for her was to forget her husband and join him upstairs. _He_ wanted her. He was certain she wasn’t a lousy lay if with the right person; he was certain she wasn’t even a lousy lay with Yamcha. Yamcha was clueless and completely interested only in his professional life at the moment. _The fool,_ Vegeta thought to himself, refraining from snorting. Why had he bothered if he had no interest in even attempting to make the time for a wife? “I am afraid I have no insight for you,” he said finally. “It was a surprise to me that he even got married to anyone; the common joke was that he was a lifelong bachelor. I know he is career driven. I am certain that is all it is,”

She sighed. “I keep telling myself that, but even if he does get everything he wants, I suspect it still will not make a difference. He’s in love with my mother,”

Vegeta looked at her. _That_ struck a familiar chord with him. In all the time he had known Yamcha, he had never seen him court a woman or even speak of anyone special, but for one from his youth, who Vegeta had made fun of him for not ever taking advantage of his good looks, status and single state. “Who is your mother?” He asked. “Is her name Bunny?”

“That’s her,” she nodded and her heart sank that even Vegeta knew of her.

“They were engaged and she married someone else while he was away in a war?”

“That’s the story,” she confirmed. “I’m beginning to wonder if she ever truly got over him. Why else would she force me into marrying him?”

He shrugged and shook his head. This wasn’t a good situation and every excuse he made to not pursue Bulma was canceled out by another reason why she was still fair game for him, just like anyone else before her he’d pursued and bedded. If she was anyone else’s wife but his friend’s in this same predicament, he’d be upstairs with her right now, showing her a good time and verifying her fears that she wasn’t decent in bed. Hell he’d even go so far as to tell her he’d be more than happy to _teach_ her how to please her husband in the bedroom, but for some reason he thought she’d see through him and know his true intentions. No, he would cultivate this one differently than all the others and that was thrilling to him. So thrilling that he felt himself beginning to stiffen at the thought of how satisfying it would be when she finally decided she wanted him despite the fact that she knew it was wrong.

“I’m sorry,” she smiled and sniffed. “I’m not expecting you to answer that and it is wrong of me to be speaking to you about such personal matters. I’m so lonely though. I always thought if I got married, I wouldn’t be lonely. Instead, I’m lonelier than ever because he’s never around and when he is, he shows me attention, but doesn’t show me any kind of affection so I still feel lonely. Does that even make sense?”

“You can be married and have your mate around and still be the loneliest person in the world,” he said almost knowingly.

“Sounds like you know,” she snorted bitterly and thought about how sad and unfair that was. “Why are you married if not for love?”

“That is a long story,” he sighed. “Perhaps I will tell you one day,”

“I like your wife,” Bulma said, not understanding how the two of them wouldn’t be happy. They seemed to enjoy each other’s company and were close to the same age. She was dying to know the story there. “She’s very nice and I appreciated her visit the other afternoon and invitation for tonight, even if it was from you,”

“Lazuli is nice,” he nodded. “However watch yourself and do not be too quick to divulge personal matters to her. She is an opportunist. Keep her at arm’s length and as a mere acquaintance,”

Bulma frowned at his counsel.  “Is she a gossip?” she asked out of curiosity. Her impression had been that she was genuine and she thought it odd that he would speak negatively to her about his own wife so freely.

“There’s that,” he nodded. “Do not say anything to her you do not wish to become public knowledge. Also if you ever happen to be on her bad side, she is not above blackmail,” he warned.

“And you?” she asked in alarm. She had just confided in him her inner most personal thoughts with regards to her marriage.

“Anything you have said to me this evening will not leave this room,” he assured her, reaching for her hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “You have my word.”

“Thank you,” she nodded in relief, looking at their hands. She felt a wave of heat course through her and her stomach once again fluttered in excitement at the innocent gesture. She wanted to lean into him and hug him. She wanted to fall into him and feel his arms around her, breath in his warm, comforting scent, but refrained. As it was, holding his hand and letting her mind wander the way it was, was crossing a line.

Vegeta watched her closely as he debated over what to do next. If he wanted her, all he had to do was give her some encouragement; he knew that. He was about to discard his new plan of a slow seduction, go in for the kill and lean in to her in an attempt to kiss her, when he heard the familiar feminine cough of Lazuli.

“Are you two planning on returning?” she asked, smirking at them. Truthfully she’d been expecting a much different scene. “If so, I will start some games before your absence is noticed, if it hasn’t been already.”

“I’m sorry,” Bulma apologized, taking her hand back, handing him back the small pistol and stepping away from Vegeta. She could have sworn that if Lazuli had not shown up when she had, he’d have kissed her and she would have welcomed it. She felt both relieved and disappointed by that since she’d spent so much time already, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. “I was making my way back from the restroom, took a wrong turn and ended up here.”

“Was he showing off his gun collection?” Lazuli asked, rolling her eyes and approaching her. “I am glad I rescued you then,”

“It’s fine,” Bulma said. “I quite like guns,”

“Well, you’ll have to come shooting with us one of these days,” she said cheerfully, linking her arm with one of Bulma’s and leading her out of the room. “Come join us for dessert, a game of cards and more wine.” Lazuli looked over her shoulder at her husband and smirked deviously at him as she led Bulma back to the dining room, knowing she had foiled his evening plans.

Vegeta didn’t react to the devious look she’d given him and proceeded to place the pistol back on the wall where he’d gotten it. Since when did he hesitate in going in for the kill? Since when did he feel bad for seducing women, married or otherwise? And since when did Lazuli interrupt his plans?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am beyond THRILLED to share this stunning cover picture done by Sbubbia! I am absolutely in love with it. It was inspired by this chapter, which is why I put it here. I hope you all enjoy! Please send a shout out to her on her Tumblr blog!

**_Glorious_ **

**_Chapter 6_ **

Almost three and a half weeks had passed since Yamcha’s initial departure when Bulma finally got a letter from him informing her that he would be gone _another_ week or two before returning home. Along with the letter was a beautiful hair pin made of the finest crystal. She’d been angry; she hadn’t heard from him once otherwise the entire time and she did not bother writing him back even though he had provided her with adequate contact information should she decide to contact him. She made the best of his absence though, by spending her time in her workshop and looking for things to do.  

She had been invited to several gatherings, banquets and other events, however she had declined each and every one of them. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was avoiding Vegeta. She wasn’t sure what it was about him, but when she was around him, she lost all good sense and inhibition and that frightened her. She’d been so relieved to have opened up about her feelings on her sham of a marriage at the get together, now nearly three weeks ago, that if he had suggested something completely inappropriate, she’d have likely gone along with it. She’d only met him three times now, and not only did she feel more for him than she knew she should, she also felt desired by him and liked the fact that he seemed to not only understand, but _listened_ to how she felt. Yamcha had not done any of that since their wedding. Sure he was kind and pleasant to be around, he doted on her and spoiled her with expensive gifts, but she wanted, no _needed_ more than just that.

It was three weeks after the gathering at Vegeta and Lazuli’s and the day after she’d gotten Yamcha’s letter that she had an unexpected visitor.

* * *

 Vegeta knocked at the door and a moment later Roshi answered. “Mr. Yamcha is not home. He is away on business,”

“I am well aware of that, thank you. I came to call on Bulma. Is she at home?” Vegeta asked.

Roshi gave him an odd look. “She is,” he nodded, letting him in and showing him upstairs to where she was. “She is upstairs where she seems content to seclude herself since Yamcha has left. Working on some devilry or another. I do not think he will approve when he returns.”

“Hmmn,” Vegeta grunted.

“The only time she comes out is to eat,” he went on. “I have tried to find out what it is she has been doing, but Baba accuses me of being nothing more than a lecherous old man with wicked intentions,”

“She would not be wrong,” Vegeta chuckled. “Surely you have not lost your appetite in your old age,”

“Certainly not!” he objected, stopping and giving Vegeta a toothy grin. “However the only female companionship I have is Baba and she, as you know, can be rather… _scary_.”

“As always,”

“Yes, I am afraid she is very protective of Bulma. I haven’t even been able to catch a glimpse of her in her night shift!”

“Oh dear,” Vegeta chuckled at the dirty old man. “How unfortunate,”

“It _is_!” he lamented, not picking up on Vegeta’s sarcasm.

They finally made it to the room at the end of the upstairs hallway and Roshi knocked on the door. “Bulma,” he called out.

“I told you already, Roshi, you _cannot_ see my tan lines!” they heard her shout from the other side of the door.

“See? What did I tell you?” he shrugged. “You have a visitor!”

“A visitor?” she asked in surprise. So far everyone here but for Vegeta and Lazuli had been cold and unfriendly. She came to the door and blinked in shock when she saw that her _visitor_ was Vegeta. “Hello,” she greeted dumbly.

Vegeta frowned at her in surprise. Her hair was up in a messy bun, piled up on top of her head. She wore a long, loose fitting, long sleeved shirt that laced up the front he assumed must have been Yamcha’s; it hung off her to one side, exposing one of her bare shoulders and she had the sleeves bunched up to her elbows. She was also wearing black trousers, something he had never seen a woman wear. She was a mess, but oddly still looked just as delectable as she did any other time he’d seen her. Somehow, seeing her this way made her even more appealing to him.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked him after the long awkward pause. She could feel herself turning red as he looked her over, but it was more from embarrassment over her disheveled and unpresentable state of dress than because she was excited by his presence. Her mother would have had a nosebleed if she’d known she was speaking to a guest looking like she currently did.

“Yes, please,” he answered. “I hope I am not interrupting anything important; I brought you a project I thought you may find interesting.”

“Oh,” she said. “No, not interrupting. I was just… Never mind. It’s not important. Please, come in,” she moved to the side, inviting him in.

Vegeta walked in.

“ _Not_ you, too,” she coolly said to Roshi, blocking him as he attempted to follow Vegeta into the room.

“You cannot entertain a _male_ guest on your own,” he objected mainly out of jealousy that she never invited him into her quarters alone than because it was a matter of propriety.

“Watch me,” she snarked at him. “Leave us and be gone, you lecherous _old_ man!”

“I’ll be telling Yamcha, I will!” he threatened.

“Good! Please do!” she snipped, promptly shutting the door behind her.

“Lucky bastard,” Roshi mumbled, shaking his head as he turned to leave, going back to his chores.

Vegeta looked around the room, which looked like a bomb had gone off. There were metal pieces of things everywhere. Gears, pipes, oil, other things he had no idea what they were or what they were used for.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, rolling up several sheets of paper that had what appeared to be blue prints on them. “I was working on a project.”

“This is a workshop of sorts?” he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded, scurrying around the room, trying to straighten it out a bit. It may have been an organized mess to her, but to anyone else, it looked an absolute disaster zone. “Well, it’s supposed to be.”

“In a house so large as this and as many gigantic rooms used for essentially nothing, _this_ is the room he allows you to have as your own?” he asked in disdain.

Bulma stopped what she was doing and blinked several times as she looked at him. _That_ was exactly how she’d felt too when Yamcha had so graciously _gifted_ her with the tiny room; however she’d told herself that it was better than nothing all and had made a point of not dwelling on it any further. It had taken her nearly the full two weeks to clear it out to her satisfaction. She’d not given much thought to what possessions of Yamcha’s she’d tossed away. He had given her this room; it was small and so she cleared it out nearly completely. Of course she hadn’t thrown away _everything;_ she’d kept things that had appeared to be expensive or may hold sentimental value, but she moved them to _his_ office. He could deal with them and find a home for these things when he returned.

“Yes,” she nodded when she caught herself. “Well, it is better than no space for myself. I wouldn’t want to make a mess in any of the other rooms that are used for entertaining guests.”

“Hmmn,” he grunted, though he felt she should have been given a much larger room if she enjoyed projects like this. “This room seems hardly adequate for whatever you are occupying your time with. The lighting in here is atrocious,”

 _I know, right!_ She thought, though did not voice it. “A room with a large window would have been nice, but I am able to make due.”

Vegeta looked at the wall and there was only one small gas light. “Would you like a better light fixture?”

“I’m working on that,” she said. “I’m making a giant chandelier and am making several lamps.”

“That is what you are doing in here?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I can’t build things in the dark,” she scoffed.

“No, you most certainly cannot,” he agreed.

“I am also trying to figure out a way to harness the electricity from the street lamps to work indoors,” she said. “Though that will take some time.”

“Interesting,” he nodded. She apparently hadn’t been exaggerating when she had told him she was a mechanical genius.

“What kind of _project_ did you bring for me?” she asked in interest now that her work table was a bit less cluttered.

“Right, I brought you one of my guns that needs repairs and refurbishing,” he said, reaching into his jacket and placing a very old looking pistol on the table between them.

“Oh, wow!” she exclaimed, looking at it in excitement. “I’d love to, but I’m not a gunsmith, Vegeta.”

He shrugged, “I know. However you had mentioned when I saw you last that you wanted to learn more about guns. This is a family heirloom. It was my father’s and before that my grandfather’s pistol of choice and I believe his father’s before that even,”

“I can’t work on this,” she shook her head regretfully, though inwardly she wanted nothing more than to take it apart and inspect it. “I might ruin it,”

“It is already ruined,” he shrugged casually. “I cannot use it so you certainly cannot make it any worse,”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded.

“Alright, I’ll take a look at it today,” she said with a smile, excited to have something completely new to her to work on. “When do you need it back by?”

“Whenever,” he shrugged. “I do not need it; I was merely doing maintenance on one of the others and I remembered that it does not work. I then recalled how you mentioned that you like projects of this nature and wished to learn more about guns so I thought you might like to take a look at it or at least attempt to repair it.”

Bulma smiled at him in appreciation and felt deeply moved by the gesture despite his brushing it off as no big deal. That was more observation and thought about her and her interests than Yamcha had given her so far. She felt a twang of regret and disappointment at that thought. “Thanks for thinking of me. I’ve been quite bored since I arrived here and Yamcha left, so I appreciate the project.”

“It may not be as exciting as figuring out how to tamper with the outside electricity, but it is something,” he shrugged.

“No, it’s _very_ exciting!” she said. “This is something completely new to me. I’ll do my very best to fix it for you so you can use it.”

“Hmmn,” he grunted with a smirk. “I’ll leave you to it then,”

“Wait, let me see you out,” she said, putting the gun down on the table.

“It is fine, I will see myself out,” he said, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Bulma stood there quietly for a moment, a small smile playing on her lips. She wasn’t sure what to think, but she felt her stomach make a series of pleasant flips as she thought about what had just happened. Maybe Vegeta wasn’t just out to cause trouble for her, she reasoned. If he was, then why go through the effort to put thought into something he had to have known would make her entire week? Perhaps she had misjudged him.

Not wanting to dwell too much on it, she grabbed a clean cloth and began wiping the outside of the gun before looking for her tools she’d need to begin taking it apart.

* * *

Yamcha returned a week later, having been gone a total of four and a half weeks. By this point it was the end of October and the weather was turning cold.

“How have you been?” he asked her as they met in the sitting room for tea and a mid-morning snack before lunch time. He had arrived shortly after breakfast. “I thought about you while I was gone and wished I’d brought you,”

“Oh?” she responded somewhat coolly. She was glad he was home; Roshi was a perverted old man and Baba wasn’t very good company. Bulma gave her the benefit of the doubt that she was too busy to entertain her, but she would not even let Bulma assist her with any of her chores and simply dismissed her whenever she’d ask out of pure boredom. Yes, Bulma was glad that Yamcha had returned home, but she wasn’t going to throw herself at him and make a big deal of his return.

“Well, Prince Alexander’s wife, Maria, was most disappointed I had not brought my new wife along for her to meet,” he said with a sheepish grin. “She is most shy, like yourself. I hadn’t thought about it at the time, but she is also into books and education; for women especially. I will be sure to bring you along the next time we are to meet. The two of you have a lot in common and I think the two of you would get along fantastically.”

“Great,” she said, refraining from commenting further or telling him she’d known he was wrong in leaving her behind. She was more than annoyed.  “I’ll look forward to _hopefully_ meeting her one day.”

“I brought you back something to hopefully make up for it,” he said cheerfully, handing her a flat, square shaped box.

Bulma raised an eyebrow at him as she took it.

She opened the box and inside was an extravagant diamond wreath necklace and matching earrings. They were beautiful, but she was still mad at him for not only leaving her and being gone far longer than he had initially said he would be, but for not listening when she’d practically begged him to bring her with him in the first place and now admitting to her that she’d been right. That she could have come and it would have been fine like she’d known it would have been, only made her angrier with him despite his beautiful gift.

“You don’t like it?” he asked in surprise.

“It’s beautiful, Yamcha, thank you.” She said rather curtly.

“Then why the sour face?”

“I’m still _mad_ at you!” She said. “You left me here all on my own a few days after I got here and now you tell me it would have been fine to come with you. Seriously? How do you think that makes me feel? Do you even care?”

Yamcha nodded. “Alright,” he admitted. “You’re right. I should have brought you.”

“Next time?” she asked.

He looked as though he were considering it, but shook his head. “Not on my next trip, I’m sorry, but the next one I take that’s a short trip, I _will_ bring you,”

“Why not next time?” she asked.

“This time it _will_ be all meetings, Bulma. No socializing like this last time; lots of meetings; just me making a few important connections.”

“When?”

“I will be leaving again in a few days,” he admitted.

“How long will you be gone for this time?” she asked pointedly. They may have barely knew each other and didn’t have anything in common, but she still wasn’t comfortable with him just up and leaving so shortly after their wedding and her coming to live in his home.

“Not sure, two or three month’s maybe?”

“Two or three months!” she exclaimed.

“I have new contacts to make all over the place, dear,” he said. “We’ve been over this. I told you it wouldn’t be easy, but you’ll be fine here. I will send word to Vegeta and he will send Lazuli to come for a visit in a day or two.”

“I thought you said you wanted me to be a _part_ of this with you,” she protested. “How can I help and support you if I’m _here_?”

Yamcha sighed. “Just stay here,” he said. “I appreciate your willingness, but there’s really nothing for you to help me with. If anything, staying and making friends here is the best way you can help me. Which, by the way, have you been out while I was away?”

“Lazuli invited me to a get together the other weekend,” she told him, not wanting to bother arguing since he obviously didn’t want her coming with him once again. “I went.”

“Oh good!” he smiled. “Did you have a good time?”

Her stomach fluttered at the memory of Vegeta taking her hand. They’d had an actual decent conversation and she couldn’t stop thinking about him and wondering if he’d have kissed her if Lazuli hadn’t come to find her.

The other thing she couldn’t stop thinking of was why Lazuli hadn’t been angry? If it had been her and she’d have found Yamcha holding another girl’s hand and standing close to her seemingly having a deep conversation, she wouldn’t have been so dismissive about it. There had been a few events she’d been invited to since that evening, but she had declined all of them; not only because she didn’t trust herself around Vegeta, but she feared that that perhaps word about the incident had gotten out. Also, she had wanted to put some distance between Vegeta and herself, however since he had come to visit her and gave her a project to work on, all she could think about was when she would see him next. She still wasn’t finished with his gun, so until then, she had no real reason to contact him.

“I did,” she answered. “There were two other couples there. We had dinner and cocktails and played some cards. It was a nice evening,”

“That’s good to hear,” he nodded. “Who all was there?”

“Other than Vegeta and Lazuli, I don’t really remember their names.” She admitted.

“Oh,” he commented. “That’s too bad. Well, as long as you got out and had a good time, I guess that’s all that matters. There is a masquerade tomorrow evening; Baba gave me the invitation shortly after I arrived. I don’t usually attend those types of frivolous gatherings, but I thought it might be fun for you.”

“A masquerade?” She repeated. That _did_ sound fun. She’d always wanted to go to a masquerade or a costume party. “I’d love to go!”

“That settles it,” he nodded. “We will head out after lunch and find you something suitable to wear.”

They finished their tea and snacks without incident before Yamcha retired to his office and Bulma went back up to her small room to finish straightening it up for herself until it was lunch time and then they spent the rest of the afternoon shopping.

* * *

They arrived at the masquerade ball early on in the evening.

Bulma had chosen for herself a delicate black lace harlequin mask and painted a single sparkling rose-colored tear drop beneath her left eye; the mask only covered her eyes and left the rest of her face exposed. What she’d loved about it was the way the delicate lace only partially covered her face instead of completely taking over. She wore her hair up in a sleek up do with a few longer strands deliberately falling and wore an off the shoulder, tight nude colored, gown with a delicate black lace covering the nude fabric, giving the impression that she was naked beneath the lace. It was a tad risqué compared to what she’d normally wear in that in the front it seemed modest, but there was nearly no back to it, completely exposing her toned, lithe figure; but it had been so beautiful on the mannequin in the store and even Yamcha agreed she looked phenomenal in it, she _had_ to buy it. Inwardly she hoped that of she dressed a little more _out there_ , maybe that would pique her husband’s interest.

Yamcha had chosen a simple black cat mask to go with his black tuxedo.

They hadn’t been there very long before he was stopped and was drawn into a conversation about his political views and plans. Apparently some duke and his high society pals were in attendance and this thrilled him greatly.

“Come dance with me, Yamcha,” she said before he had a chance to follow one of the older men to introduce him to this duke. “You said tonight we were supposed to have fun,”

“I can’t right now, dear; I have to go,” he said. “Maybe in a little while?”

She stood there and looked at him and didn’t say anything.

 “Bulma, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “There are some really important people here I didn’t know would be that I have been wanting to set up a connection with,”

“Can’t we have just one dance together first?” She asked again. If she didn’t get him to come with her now, she knew he wouldn’t at all and the last thing she wanted was to be ditched again all night. “Then you can do whatever it is you need to do and then come dance with me again when you’re done.”

“Bulma, if you want to go dance, go dance. You don’t need my permission,” he said. “If you won’t because you don’t know anyone, go find Vegeta. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere,”

“Maybe I’d rather dance with my _husband,”_ she pushed. “I get that you have people to talk to, but not _everything_ should have to be about work.”

“Go mingle. It will be good for you and like I said, if you really want to dance, go ask Vegeta. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to keep you occupied since he hates these things as much as you seem to.”

“Alright then,” she shrugged. “You know, I'm starting to see and understand  _why_ my mother married my father instead of you,” she snipped before her brain had a chance to catch up with her mouth. However, it _was_ true. She did feel that way. 

“And now you’re acting like a child,” he said, frowning at her, clearly hurt by that comment.

A _child?_ Wanting to attempt to have a pleasant evening with her husband was apparently childish now? “My apologies. You’re right. Excuse me while I go entertain myself. Have fun doing whatever it is that’s so important you can’t take even one evening off.”

“Bulma, I am trying to build something big here,” he sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you here,”

“I don’t want to fight with you at all,” she admitted. “I just want to in some way feel _included_. Why is that so hard for you to understand? I know I don’t know anything about politics and have nothing to contribute in any of your conversations due to my age and lack of life experience, but at least give me the chance to try and understand it. Let me learn and maybe _gain_ some knowledge and life experience so I won’t be such a bore to have around; I _am_ smart and a quick study you’d learn if you’d give me the opportunity. You leave me at home or drag me to these huge, over crowded events and then forget about me all evening. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“We’ll discuss it either when we get home or tomorrow morning, not here,” he said quickly, looking around to make sure no one was listening to them bicker. “Go get a drink and have some fun. Look how many people are dancing. Go join them and have some fun. I will come check on you in a little while, I promise this time.”

“Right,” she sighed and walked away from him once again feeling dejected and unwanted.

Taking Yamcha’s advice, she went straight to the bar where the drinks were being served. She asked for two glasses of wine and a whiskey shot.

Without thinking, she downed the whiskey in one go, used the one glass of wine as a chaser, drinking the entire glass in one shot and hung onto the other.

Bulma didn’t see Vegeta, but wondered if she’d recognize him when she saw him, _if_ he was even there. She hoped he was, she thought as she walked around the ballroom, observing people, looking for his distinctive hairstyle. At least since they were all wearing masks and you could not tell who was who, it may make it easier to ask some random to dance if she couldn’t find Vegeta.

She grabbed another drink from a passing waiter with a drink tray and quickly downed it; she didn’t know what it was, but it was strong, tasted awful and she was glad she still had her glass of wine in her hand to cancel out the taste in her mouth. As the room began to spin, she thought maybe she should take it easy on the drinking, but noticed that most of the other people here were quite drunk already and Yamcha _had_ told her to have a drink and have fun. Not to mention if she made a fool of herself, at least she was masked like everyone else so therefore it didn’t really matter.

With that in mind, she quickly finished her wine and promptly went to get another one from the bar before heading out on to the dance floor. By this time, she was fairly drunk, had mostly forgotten about Yamcha’s disinterest and she was feeling fairly confident. There were single people dancing in a circle to the orchestra, which was playing a livelier tune.

Bulma took her glass of wine and decided to blend in there. Yamcha may want to be as boring as paint drying, but she didn’t want to be. Hadn’t he called her a child? There were a few people dancing ridiculously that she assumed were not only drunk, but were around her age. This was what children did, wasn’t it? Acted silly but had a good time? That was her mission for the evening. If she didn’t, she knew with the amount of alcohol she had just consumed in a very short time span, she would end up sitting at a table in the corner somewhere crying while dwelling on everything she currently hated about her life. _That_ seemed more childish to her for some reason than getting pissed drunk and having a good time like everyone else.

Bulma mingled and blended in with everyone else and was happy to just listen to the music as she swayed this way and that in tune to it, not caring if she looked graceful or ridiculous.

After an undetermined amount of time, a male with a sleek black cat mask like a panther and the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen began to dance with her. He seemed to have chin-length, straight, silky black hair and wasn’t overly tall.

“What’s a doll like you doing dancing all alone?” He asked; his voice smooth and calm.

Bulma shrugged but smiled at him. “Did you get ditched by your spouse too?”

He smirked at her. “No, I am here alone,”

* * *

Vegeta and Lazuli had just arrived. He wasn’t going to attend this evening’s festivities, but Lazuli had wanted to go and he knew there was the possibility that Bulma would be here. So far he was bored and had yet to spot her. He’d seen Yamcha, so he began wandering around the ballroom assuming that she might be there.

 He himself was wearing all black and had chosen the mysterious Guy Fawks mask to wear. Lazuli always liked that one whenever they went to these stupid masquerade things. He himself was pro military and anti government, so it was his subtle way of protesting. It was also a week from November the fifth, so he had thought it quite fitting.

He got himself a drink and found himself someplace to stand and surveil the room so that he might be able to find Bulma. As he looked around, some people he recognized despite the masks and some he didn’t. There were a lot of people here he did not much care for; males especially.

Lazuli came to stand by him. “Can’t find her?”

“Not yet,” he replied. “I do not know what your evening’s plans are, but watch yourself,”

“What do you mean?” She asked. She was wearing a delicate blue bird’s mask adorned with rhinestones and a gold beak that went beautifully with her blue gown that was a shimmer of blue, teal and gold; almost peacock colours.

“There are some extremely shady people here you do not want to get involved with,” he clarified.

“More shady than us?” She teased, looking around.

“Just be careful if you are to leave with someone,” he said. Normally he didn’t care who she left with, but he had spotted a few men he knew to be bad news and he was well aware that his wife attracted a lot of attention.

“Hmmm,” she grunted. “Should things go sideways I can always blackmail them,” she shrugged. “Threaten to report them, but make some good change instead.”

“Or not bother,” he suggested.

“What’s the fun in that?” She snorted. “That’s what I have you and Lapis for should things go south and I end up in over my head,”

 “Do you not ever tire of this game of yours?” He asked her.

“No,” she replied without considering his question. “What’s to get tired of?”

He shook his head but did not answer her. It was then that he noticed a woman with blue hair and a harlequin mask was giggling and dancing flirtatiously with someone who closely resembled his brother-in-law and immediately his protective instincts kicked in. “Is that not your brother dancing over there with Bulma?”

“Lapis is here?” She asked in surprise, looking for him. “Oh yeah, that is him.”

She heard him growl as he watched them. Lapis was getting fairly handsy with her and she was clearly too drunk to either notice or have the wherewithal to do anything about it.

“Oh calm down,” she snorted. “Speaking of growing tired of games, why have you not fucked her yet?”

“Because I haven’t had the opportunity,” he lied. “I might have the evening she was over, but you sought to that.”

“Just trying to keep it interesting for you,” she chortled. “I truthfully don’t see what the appeal is. She is beautiful, but for one she’s too nice and proper and for two, she’s your only _real_ friend’s wife.”

Vegeta shrugged in response as he carefully watched Bulma dance with Lapis, who had his hands on her hips and was whispering something into her ear. “I prefer taking my time,” he answered because it was the only answer he had. Truthfully, he didn’t really know why he was drawn to her. It was more than just physical though, that much he knew.

“I think you’ll be disappointed,” she said. “The prim and proper ones always are,”

“Not always,” he countered. “Some may surprise you. That much I have learned over the years, which is why I avoid the obvious whores. There is no challenge getting them into bed.”

“I suppose,” she sighed. “Though if you don’t bag her tonight, there’s plenty of other options for you. How long has it been?”

“Long enough,” he replied evasively. Truthfully he’d had no one since Lazuli the night he’d first met Bulma. That in itself was an accomplishment for him. “You aren’t available?”

“Maybe,” she replied coyly. “We’ll see what the night holds. In the meantime, if you’re wanting to bag that, you’d better hurry before Lapis makes quick work of her.”

Vegeta grunted and left her there, approaching them both. He did not like how Lapis was feeling her up so openly while dancing with her. Was she really that drunk or was she that desperate for male attention at this point?

“May I cut in?” He asked as he placed a firm hand on his brother in law’s shoulder.

“Vegeta!” She exclaimed happily and throwing her arms around his neck without any inhibition, forgetting completely about Lapis. “I’m so _glad_ you’re here! I was looking all over for you!”

Lapis snorted at Vegeta, but didn’t bother arguing that he’d essentially ruined his plan for the evening. No matter, there were plenty of other easy women to choose from, he wasn’t fussy.

“Darn,” he heard the bored tone of his sister and noticed her for the first time standing on the sidelines.

“Whatever,” he snorted. “That’s the one you were telling me about?”

“That’s the one,” she nodded. “She’s nice, I just don’t get why he’s so hung up on her.”

“Because she _is_ nice,” he leered at her. “Not a bitch.”

“I wear my bitch reputation like a badge of honour,” she said, not offended. “Besides, nice is boring.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, looking at her fawning all over Vegeta. “Well I have to look for a plan B. What are your plans, dear sister?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she replied, watching her husband and Bulma very carefully. She wasn’t sure why, but she had a feeling this time there was something different about this one. Vegeta never took such a single interest in a girl and never for this long. Hopefully she’d either keep putting him off until he got bored or she’d be a lousy lay, not comparing to whatever ridiculous expectations he seemed to have about her. “For now, I want a drink. Then I’ll take a look at what I’ve got to work with. Vegeta says there’s some pretty shady individuals here.”

“Anyone we can rob while you’re entertaining?” He asked eagerly.

“Perhaps,” she shrugged. “Why? Are you game or were you looking for a conquest?”

“Either or,” he shrugged. “I’ll follow your lead, sister.”

“Come have a drink with me, brother and then we’ll go hunting.” She grinned.

* * *

"Be careful,” Vegeta admonished. “There are a few very unsavory people here," 

“Hmmm, like you?” She joked.

“I am harmless by comparison,” he replied, somewhat offended by that comment even though he knew she was just joking with him. The orchestra had switched to something more mellow and he took the opportunity to draw her close to him.

“You’re a predator,” she said, looking up at him.

He smirked at her. “Predator or protector?”

“I don’t need protection,” she shook her head.

“The man you were just dancing with is not someone you want to be fraternizing or flirting with in your current state,” he warned.

“Aww are you jealous?” She cooed.

“You want to be dragged off somewhere and taken advantage of?” He asked seriously, getting somewhat annoyed with her. “Then be my guest. I will leave you to it.”

“I’d _love_ to be dragged off somewhere…” She snorted. “With you… Do you think Yamcha would notice or even _care_ if you made it to me pressed up against the wall?” She asked with a slight slur and giggle, but looking at him with a dead serious look.

“Do not be so quick wish for things you do not really mean,” he replied. It was a good thing he’d stepped in when he did. He knew she was just being foolish because she was drunk. Lapis would not have known or cared that she was only acting this way because she was drunk.

“Aww why not?” She pouted. “I see how you look at me. You _want_ me. And you know what?”

“Hmmm,” he grunted.

“I want you too,”

“Because you’re inebriated,” he reminded her.

“Ha haa! _No nooo_ ,” she laughed, shaking her head at him. “I have _lots_ of naughty thoughts about you,”

“You do, do you?” He asked, leaning his face closer to her in interest, his annoyance fading completely as he brought her even closer to him and began to move with her to the slow rhythm of the orchestra. “Like what?”

“I can’t say!” She whispered rather hoarsely. “It’s a _secret_ ,”

“It is, is it?” He replied in amusement. Drunk Bulma was a whole lot more fun to flirt with than sober Bulma. He would not do anything tonight, but he would engage with the flirtatious banter with her. When he finally took her, he wanted her fully aware, not drunk. “I’ve had _many_ thoughts of you as well,”

“Have you?” She asked wide eyed.

“Um hmm,” he hummed sensually, lowering his lips to her ear. God she smelled good and looked absolutely phenomenal. The dress she had chosen to wear was simply sinful in the way it hugged her curves down just passed her hips before it flowed out like a bell. Feeling bold, he brought one of his hands up and gently caressed the smooth skin of her exposed back.

“Well take me somewhere and show me!” She whispered again, shuddering at the feel of his hand gently running up and down her spine sensually. She brought her face up and looked at his eyes. His face was half covered, leaving his mouth exposed, but his eyes burned with need and desire and she _knew_ he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

“Not here,” he said, breaking her lusty illusions.

“Why not? Are you being a prude just like Yamcha?” She asked. “What is wrong with me that all of you men are so _boring?_ ”

Vegeta chuckled darkly in such a tone it made her feel warm all over as he pulled her even closer to him. “One day I will show you how much of a prude I am not,” he said against her ear again and she could feel his warm breath against her neck. The deep baritone of his voice vibrated against her chest, they were so close to each other now and it thrilled her to her core. She felt weak in the knees at the way he was currently stroking the exposed part of her lower back, up and down lightly along her spine.

“One day?” She repeated. “Why not right _here,_ right _now?”_

“Because you are drunk and acting like a child and tomorrow you would deeply regret it.”

“I _am_ a child!” She snipped indignantly at him, instantly angry now that she had been reminded of Yamcha calling her childish earlier that evening. “And how would _you know_ I’d regret it in the morning? Maybe I _want_ you to take me upstairs and do unspeakable things to me even if I wasn’t drunk! Ever think of that?”

Vegeta bit his lower lip at the thought and quit moving to the music with her as he briefly considered it. She was making it extremely difficult to turn her down. “You want to embark on a scandalous affair here, right in front of everyone, your husband included?”

“Yupp!” She nodded earnestly, letting the p pop and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and leaning fully into him. She wanted to feel what it was like to have him pressed tightly into her body and she didn’t care who saw or what they thought.

“It would ruin you,” he warned her, gently. He did not want to offend her.

“I don’t _care,_ ” she insisted. “Take me to bed,”

Vegeta smirked at her. While he found her highly amusing at the moment, his purpose, however, even when he _did_ finally get around to bedding her wasn’t to ruin her and he made a rash decision right then and there that he knew he would probably regret later on. “Alright then,”

Looking around to make sure they weren’t being observed, he took her hand and led her out of the ballroom at a casual pace so as to not attract attention to themselves.

 _Oh my god!_ Bulma thought to herself as her heart fluttered and her stomach flipped in excitement. This was it! She felt heat from her arousal in anticipation wash right through her. She noticed Yamcha in a corner having a deep discussion with someone and she fought the urge to catch his attention. What would he think if he knew what she was about to do with his friend? Would he care? He didn’t care that she danced with him, what was the difference between that and this? None really, she supposed. Sex was a dance between two people, just minus the clothes and it involved the exchange of fluids, and the acceptance of body parts. That was it, really. She was nervous, but sure of her decision; there was no going back now. She didn’t care what Yamcha thought, she didn’t care what her mother would think when she found out. All she wanted was to have a pleasurable and exciting intimate encounter with this man who had single-mindedly captivated her attention since she’d met him.

“Where are we going?” She finally asked him as they passed two empty rooms and a large staircase and approached the exit of the banquet hall.

“You’ll soon find out,” he said to her vaguely as he asked the coat check woman for Bulma’s overcoat and handed the door man another ticket.

“Ohhh,” she nodded in understanding.

They stood outside a moment, waiting for Vegeta’s carriage. “Isn’t it too cold to do things in the carriage?” She asked curiously.

“Just a little, but I won’t be having you in there,” he said. “I have standards.”

“Gotcha,” she nodded. Though she was sure she’d have fun fooling around with him on their way to their destination.

Vegeta gave her a side glance as he noticed she was swaying as she stood there waiting with him and he knew he was making the right decision, even if his cock was protesting and telling him otherwise. It wasn’t beneath him or his moral code to have a woman while in an inebriated state and he had done so before, however Bulma was different. He knew she was only throwing herself at him so openly because she was drunk. He wanted her to be fully aware of her decision. He wanted to be able to take his time with her and wanted her to remember every glorious moment of everything he would do with her when the time was right. He wanted to blow her mind, not just give her a quick, cheap drunken fuck that she would barely remember in the morning and likely loath not only himself for taking advantage of her, but herself as well for betraying her marriage vows she was so obviously trying to abide to when in her normal state of mind. He also wanted her out of this environment. If he flat out turned her down, she would likely be hurt and angry with him and with so many unsavory fools lurking around just looking for an easy lay, in the state she was in, she would be easy prey.

Bulma happily climbed into Vegeta’s carriage when it arrived and somehow managed to do so without tripping.

Once he was satisfied she was seated properly, he closed the door.

“Aren’t you coming?” She protested.

“I will tell your husband first that you are ill and went home so he does not wonder what happened to you,”

“You know him, he won’t notice I’m gone until the early morning hours because he will be ready to go home,” she pouted.

“Nevertheless, I will inform him of your departure and I will take a different carriage to your place so we are not discovered,” he said.

“Good idea!” She nodded, her eyes wide.

Vegeta smirked at her and went to the driver. “She is fairly inebriated. See that she is brought home safely and help her inside and then return here. I am not sure how late Lazuli and myself will be yet,”

“Yes sir,” the carriage driver nodded and departed.

Vegeta exhaled deeply through his mouth, blowing out his cheeks.  Tonight had certainly been interesting, he thought as he turned to head back into the ballroom to inform Yamcha that he had his wife taken home. He chuckled out loud to himself that she had demanded he take her to bed and while he knew that what he had done was definitely  _not_ what she'd had in mind, he technically did do as she bid him to do and had  _sent_ her to bed. 

“Vegeta!” Yamcha called out to him as he was approaching; the man was clearly at least as inebriated as his wife currently was. “I was just talking about you and wanted your opinion on something,”

“Your wife took ill,” Vegeta said. “I had my carriage man take her home,”

“Oh how kind of you, Vegeta,” Yamcha thanked him. “What was I telling you guys? I can always count on Vegeta to do the right thing. I’d be lost without him!”

Vegeta smirked but refrained from mentioning that it was a good thing _he_ was the one pursuing his wife. Anyone else would have been having their way with her in another room at the moment and right then, he regretted _not_ having done that. However he had refrained from doing so on Bulma’s account, not Yamcha’s.

Even now, it would be so easy to get a carriage cab to take him to her place and fulfill  _both_ of their apparent desires. _Eventually,_ he told himself.

“If you weren’t such an absent minded fool, you would not need me,” he retorted in a joking tone that made everyone around them laugh. Little did any of them know, he absolutely was not joking.

“Never can take a compliment, can you, Vegeta?” Yamcha said, slapping him on the back. “Now then, what is your opinion on having a government run by military verses a senate?”

This was hell, Vegeta thought. He hated discussing politics. He hated discussing politics with drunken fools even more. Yamcha _knew_ his viewpoint so why was he even asking? He looked at the three men around him and tried to identify them, but could not. “I think a government run by the military would be much more effective, however we do not see eye to eye on the matter and I am not in the mood to get into a debate over it.”

“Aww cranky old Vegeta,” Yamcha laughed. “Alright, I’ll let you off the hook. Do you have some cute little female you’re pursuing this evening?”

“You could say that,” he nodded and deeply refrained from admitting to him in front of all these pompous fools that it was _his_ wife he was taking his time in pursuing and if he did not watch himself, it would not be long and maybe at an event like this in the not too distant future, he would find someplace private and actually show her a good time.

However he did not. It would only get Bulma into trouble and he did not want that.

He eventually found Lazuli who was ready to leave and head out to a poker game with Lapis at someone else’s place which meant they would likely be out until the early morning and there was a very good chance they would find trouble.

She left with her brother and he waited for his carriage to return from taking Bulma home before heading home himself, alone and questioning many of his own life’s decisions.


	7. Chapter 7

Bulma awoke the next morning with an upset stomach and a massive headache. She looked around and realized she was in her own bed, clothed in her petty coat rather than night dress and a feeling of panic and horror took hold as she heard soft sounds of a male snoring beside her. 

She didn’t _dare_ look beside her…

She remembered getting very drunk and flirting shamelessly with Vegeta last night. Actually no, _flirting_ would be putting it mildly. She’d shamelessly _thrown_ herself at him. Had she actually _asked_ him to take her to bed?! _Oh god…_ she thought to herself as the memory of it slowly began to come back to her; burying her pounding head in her hands. While vague and hazy, the evenings events slowly began to come back to her. She remembered Vegeta agreeing with whatever proposition she had made and she remembered him escorting her to his carriage, but that was all she remembered.

She didn’t remember what had happened on the ride, if she went somewhere else before coming home. She didn’t even remember coming home and going to bed! 

Bulma couldn’t bear to look beside her to find out if the person next to her was Yamcha or Vegeta. Either way, she was probably in deep shit this morning.

She decided to be brave and snuck a look at the man sleeping beside her and relief flooded her that it was Yamcha.

So what _had_ happened last night, she wondered as she slowly got up to use the washroom and change into her night dress. Had she done anything with Vegeta? She truly did not remember anything after getting into the carriage. As she settled back into bed because the room was spinning horribly, she carefully placed her hand between her legs and felt relief as there was no discomfort down there; being that she and Yamcha had only been intimate a total of three times since their marriage, she was always fairly tender the next day. This meant there was a very good chance that nothing had actually happened last night.

As she racked her brain for answers, she felt her headache get worse and eventually drifted back to sleep again.

She reawakened an hour or two later alone and despite feeling like she’d been hit in the head by a train, she changed into something more comfortable, threw on a housecoat and ventured out of their bedroom.

“How are you feeling?” Yamcha asked her, glancing up briefly from his morning newspaper, looking quite rough himself.

“Not great,” she admitted, taking a seat and pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Better than last night,”

“So I hear,” he replied and she could not tell from the tone of his voice if he was angry with her or not. “Vegeta tells me you took sick and so he sent you home,”

“Right,” she nodded. She vaguely remembered him telling her he would tell Yamcha that; but what else had he told Yamcha, she didn’t know. “Though I think it was because I drank a little too much,”

“Indeed,” he replied, tipping the top of the newspaper over and looking at her with a raised brow a moment. “I am not upset with you. It was a masquerade, nearly everyone was polluted beyond good sense, myself included, however please do not make a habit of over indulging.”

“I won’t,” she shook her head; and she meant it. She felt truly awful this morning. Not to mention she knew she’d horribly embarrassed herself in front of Vegeta. Now that she was awake, she was remembering some of the vulgar and crude things she’d said to him. _What a gentleman,_ she thought to herself. She’d horribly misjudged him. If he had wanted to, he could have had his way with her each way from Sunday and she would have gladly welcomed it with open arms, or legs she supposed, and held back a groan of complete and utter mortification at her conduct. Had she really asked him to take her to bed and do unspeakable things to her? _I think so… oh god, how will I ever face him again?_

“If you are up to it, there is a show happening at the theater tonight,” Yamcha said. “You are right, I have neglected you and have put my work in front of spending time with you. If you are feeling well enough, I thought we would go for dinner, just the two of us, and see a show tonight. No work, no political discussions, I promise.”

Bulma lit up as she listened to his proposal. She wouldn’t like anything more and now felt even _more_ guilt over what had _almost_ happened last night and she very vaguely remembered Vegeta telling her that if he took her up on anything, she would regret it the next morning. He had been so right. However instead of this warning her to definitely keep her distance from him, it only increased her feelings of fondness and appreciation for him. She may not have been technically guilty of anything, but she had thought of it and would have done it if it weren’t for Vegeta.

This was still a giant mess though.

“I would love that,” she nodded to Yamcha. Maybe that was all she needed. A nice evening out with him to reset her brain and remind her that perhaps she wasn’t in such a dire situation.

* * *

True to his word, they went out for a wonderful supper at a fancy restaurant and had a nice time together. They visited and for the first time since time since they had returned from their honeymoon, Bulma had Yamcha’s undivided attention.

_Why can’t it be like this all the time?_ She lamented.

He told her more about his trip and some of the places he’d visited. It all sounded like so much more fun than she’d had here, being stuck alone in his home. While she’d been there a total of nearly five weeks, she still felt like a visitor rather than an occupant.

They finished their meal and took the carriage to the theater hall, which was nothing short of immaculate with the gold trim and white marble floors. There were thick red curtains surrounding the entire auditorium.

Yamcha ordered them a bottle of champagne to come to the private box they had reserved for themselves and they sat down, waiting for the show to start.

Just before the lights dimmed and an announcement was made for people to begin taking their seats, she happened to notice Vegeta and Lazuli arriving and rushing to an empty box seat straight across from theirs in the auditorium and her heart leapt.

He hadn’t noticed her, so she was free to observe him without worrying. He looked good in his tuxedo. She found it endearing the way he stood and waited for his wife to take her seat, protectively placing a hand on her lower back for support. Her stomach fluttered and she felt a wave of heat rush through her as she recalled the previous evening and the memory of how her body had responded when he’d caressed the bare skin of her back in a slow, soothing, sensual way. Obviously he hadn’t been completely put out by her obnoxious drunkenness; hadn’t he admitted back to her about having indecent thoughts about her in return or had she made that up in her drunken state and wishful thinking?

Her evening with Yamcha had been really nice and she was sincerely enjoying herself, but now she felt guilty sitting there next to him staring at and pining after another man. What did that say about her? Nothing good, obviously.

The show started and her mind was distracted from inappropriate thoughts about Vegeta. The show had dancers and acrobats performing as an orchestra played music. It was impressive to watch the way some of them moved and contorted themselves.

Absentmindedly she began looking around while a single ballerina danced around the stage on her own. She braved a look at Vegeta who had obviously noticed their presence and had been watching her for however long. He smirked at her in acknowledgment as their eyes met.

Bulma offered him a small smile. Her stomach fluttered and she felt her face grow warm from embarrassment as she recalled again how badly she’d embarrassed herself the previous evening.

Vegeta nodded once in her direction and tipped his head subtly to the side, seemingly beckoning her to come meet him.

She subtly shook her head no.

Vegeta’s face fell in mock reprimand and once again indicated for her to get up before standing up himself, walking along the aisle and exiting their box seat and section.

Bulma’s stomach churned in anxiety. She absolutely could not face him! She had behaved horribly! What could she possibly say to him? Not only that, what did he want to speak to her about? She didn’t trust herself around him either, though at least she wasn’t inebriated tonight so at least she had the good sense to not demand him to _take her to bed,_ she cringed inwardly as she recalled that.

She took a deep breath as she decided to see what he wanted. If anything, she hoped he would let her apologize for her behaviour. “I need to use the restroom,” she whispered to Yamcha before standing up to leave.

Bulma walked around the main concourse of the hall, which was mostly empty. She was beginning to wonder if Vegeta had actually wanted her to come find him; she couldn’t see him.

She stood near the men’s restroom a moment before deciding he must not have been in there and made her way back towards the sections. She peered into the arena and saw Yamcha and looked to the side where Vegeta had been sitting. She spotted Lazuli, but he had not returned to his seat from what she could tell. _Where is he?_ She wondered, remaining standing there for a few minutes deciding on what to do. She couldn’t be gone too long; Yamcha would wonder what was taking her so long.

Sighing in frustration that she had gotten up and was missing the show for no reason, she began walking back towards hers and Yamcha’s section to return to him when a hand reached out from behind one of the curtains and dragged her into one of the top section box seats that was not occupied.

“Vegeta!” She hissed. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He grinned at her, a devious, mischievous look shining in his eyes, despite it being dark. He did not let her go, instead, he drew her close to him. “How are you feeling?”

Bulma frowned at him. “I’ve been better, but overall I’m fine,” she replied, relaxing in his close proximity. “Look, about last night…”

“Nothing happened last night,” he cut her off.

“No, thank you for that,” she said sincerely. Though she’d be lying if she didn’t admit a part of her was disappointed that nothing other than flirtatious banter had happened and instantly she felt guilty for feeling that way. Never in her life had she felt so confused! “I’m so sorry for how I behaved. Thank you for being so proper about it.”

“No need to apologize,” he shook his head at her. “I found you rather amusing.”

Bulma was glad it was so dark around them; she could feel her face growing red. “Amusing isn’t how I would recount it, but thank you for being a gentleman about it.”

“I am no gentleman,” he snorted, feeling uncomfortable with her gratitude. Truth be told, he’d been kicking himself the rest of the night and most of the day for not acting on his true desires to have taken her for himself last night.

Vegeta decided to take a chance and leaned in and kissed her chastely on the mouth, experimentally, prepared fully for her to push him away or slap him… yet she didn’t. She kissed him back just as cautiously as though she were testing the ice on a frozen lake; ready to take a step back if it was not safe, but willing to progress if it was safe to do so. He did not want to rush her or scare her off, so he let her set the pace.

Bulma closed her eyes in contentment as he gently kissed her; his mouth felt better in real life than she’d imagined it would feel in her fantasies. She could tell he wasn’t sure how she would react and so he was being cautious. What he didn’t know was inside she was trembling and rejoicing as she felt magnetized by him and kissed him back.

Her stomach fluttered and her heart began beating a mile a minute, thrilled with excitement and arousal as he became confident that she was just as enraptured by him as he was with her, he pressed her into a pillar behind her and kissed her so deeply she couldn’t think of anything else but him. One of his strong hands played with one of her hands, the other brushed her cheek lightly and his hips pinned her against the pillar behind her, trapping her there; not that she was bothered by that.

She let his one hand go and placed both of her hands on the side of his face, kissing him back desperately, all thoughts of Yamcha and guilt over wanting to be completely consumed by this man was gone from her mind. Never had she been kissed like this before and she did not want this moment to end. If this was how he made her feel just kissing her, how much more incredible would an intimate encounter be? She moaned quietly into his mouth as her mind could barely fathom the thought.

He broke his mouth from hers, letting her breathe; his mouth traveled up her jawline and down her neck. The feel of her small, delicate frame against his body made him want more and so he moved his hands down to her hips, making sure her centre was pressed firmly against his own, wanting her to feel his desire for her.

She gasped as she felt him through her dress and his mouth went back to hers, wanting to keep her quiet.

“Vegeta,” she sighed against his mouth as she kissed him back longingly, still unsure of her choice, but not being able to refrain from touching him. Weeks of heated glances and flirtatious banter had been torturous. “What if someone finds out?”

“They won’t,” he replied, his hands still on her hips, keeping her close to him and he deepened the kiss.

Alarm bells sounded off in the back of her mind, but she didn’t care. She was enjoying the moment with Vegeta. No one had ever kissed her like this, she wasn’t about to push him away or miss this opportunity. “Lazuli,” she muttered against his mouth as something akin to common sense began to nag at her despite her excitement.

“What about her?” he asked, his mouth leaving hers for only a moment.

“She’ll be hurt,”

“She _knows,_ ” he mumbled against her mouth.

Bulma pushed him back somewhat, breaking their kiss. “She knows?”

“Uh hmm,” he grunted affirmatively before attacking the side of her neck with no care or concern in the world. “We have a sort of… _agreement_ ,”

Bulma frowned as she let that sink in. If she was aware of his womanizing ways, that was why she never seemed bothered by his open flirting with her in her presence.

“She may fraternize with whomever she wants, it matters little to me, and I may do as I like,” he clarified. “At the moment, _you_ are my choice and she is aware.”

Bulma gasped in shock at that revelation, unsure if that made things more exciting, convenient or awkward. “So she is aware of you pursuing me and is not the least bit bothered by that?”

“No,” he grunted. “She does not care.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“I don’t know… Why does she not care?” she clarified. “Why do you two have such an arrangement?”

Vegeta shrugged. His mind too fogged over in lust at the moment to come up with a good explanation. “Let us just say we have the same interests and a good understanding of each other’s true nature.”

That was vague, she thought to herself, still frowning.

“You look perplexed,” he commented, watching her carefully and lightly brushing her jawline on the left side of her face with the back of his hand as she contemplated this. Would being truthful with her about his open marriage help him or put her off? He didn’t see the point in lying about it.

“I suppose I am,” she nodded. “I’ve never heard of a couple with such a strange relationship.”

“It is not so strange,” he told her. “It is actually more common than you might think.”

“Is it?” she asked. She didn’t know anyone that had such a relationship like that. Why be married otherwise?

“Well many are trapped in either arranged marriages or marriages of strictly convenience. So they find intimacy elsewhere; it is not exactly like we broadcast it to the world,” he rolled his eyes at her. “It is something still heavily frowned upon, so those of us in such an arrangement keep it to ourselves.”

“Right, so no one ever gets hurt?” she asked.

“Not in regards to my union with Lazuli. Others may be, however I do not concern myself with the aftermath of other people’s relationships,” he said so nonchalantly, she was shocked at his careless attitude about it.

“So you don’t care if what you do ruins the reputation of someone else or causes the dissolution of a marriage?”

“No,” he shook his head. “That is not my business or my problem. They are adults who make their own choices.”

“Right,” she nodded. She was thoroughly confused. On one hand she felt like she wasn’t doing something _as_ wrong here, since Vegeta’s wife was fully aware. If she decided to do this, the only person being wronged would be Yamcha, however how would he ever know? In a few days he would be leaving and would be gone for two or three months, possibly longer.

“He wouldn’t find out,” Vegeta said confidently, as though he were reading her mind.

“How can you be so sure?” she asked.

“No one ever finds out,” he replied. “It is not like I would tell him.”

“No, but the house staff is very nosy,”

“Then extra precautions would need to be taken, however I have managed to remain undetected in similar circumstances,” he said easily.

_Similar circumstances?_ That was a turn off. What was this? Was she just another conquest for him to gloat over? _Of course_ , she told herself. Any excitement or thrill she’d felt over possibly having a secret affair dissipated then and there. She genuinely _liked_ Vegeta. If she did this, it was because it meant something to her. He seemed to understand her in a way that her husband didn’t, and more importantly, didn’t even make the effort to _try_ to understand her. Not only did the curious side of her want this to happen, but she felt like she had a real connection with Vegeta and he had been leading her to believe that he felt the same way. While she had no expectation or illusion that he would leave his wife for her and knew there would be no future for them, she didn’t like the idea that she was just another female he’d bed and discard once he was finished.

“I can’t do this,” she said quietly after a few moments of rational thought. “I’m sorry,”

“You have my word that I would do everything in my power to ensure that Yamcha never finds out,” he insisted. “It would affect my job, should he find out I was fraternizing with you in such a way.”

“It’s not that,” she admitted. “I mean, that is part of it, but you speak as though this is a game to you; I am not just another conquest for you to attain and then toss aside. I refuse to be that.”

“You are over analyzing things, however suit yourself,” he replied. “I never go after someone unless I am truly interested and the feeling is mutual,”

“Right, and how long does that last?” she asked in a snippy tone, putting some distance between them before he touched her and she let her lust cloud her mind and discard her good sense. She was ready to leave. She was embarrassed and ashamed of herself. What was wrong with her that she had let herself entertain the thought of having an affair with someone! Her mother had brought her up better than this.

Vegeta shrugged, though he found her anger amusing. “It depends; sometimes a week or two, maybe a month. Others are merely a one night stand.”

“Great,” she nodded. “And then what?”

“What do you mean? It runs its course and gradually comes to an end; that is it. I move on and they either damage themselves by coming forth or keep it to themselves and move on,”

Bulma shook her head. “So I’d be just some other pretty little fool you managed to ensnare, is that it?”

He rolled his eyes and smirked at her. “You are no fool, _obviously,_ as we are having such a discussion instead of doing what we both want to do.”

Bulma shook her head again. She wanted _him_ and wanted to pursue this with him, especially since she felt so neglected by Yamcha since she’d been here, but morally it was so wrong and she didn’t know what she wanted to do.  

She looked at him, truly torn. He looked absolutely delectable and everything within her was _screaming_ to lean in and kiss him again. She remembered the previous night when she’d said something stupid to the effect of him taking her up against a wall in the ballroom and he’d replied about watching what she wished for and something about regret. Here her fantasies over the last several weeks were about to turn to reality if she really wanted them to and she was terrified.

Terrified if she fell with him she’d shatter and never get back up again when this _thing_ inevitably ended. Terrified that if Yamcha did find out she’d be ruined and cast out. Her family would undoubtedly disown her; where would she go? Would Vegeta be so quick to still want her even if her world fell apart? Terrified that if she fell for him, she’d never be able to give Yamcha a fair chance even if things did turn around for the better. What if they did? Tonight had been an enjoyable evening.  

He watched her mull it over in her mind a moment and then leaned in and placed his lips next to her left ear. “Do not do anything you are not entirely certain of,” he admonished.

She turned her head slightly so she could look at him and reached for the side of his face with her right hand. His eyes were burning, but his face was serious. Was he leaving this impossible choice entirely up to her?

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted quietly to him. “I want this… I want _you…_ but…”

“You’re afraid,” he finished for her in understanding.

“I’m sorry,”

“Do not be,” he shook his head. “You are loyal and I cannot fault that.”

“I didn’t mean to mislead you,” she said.

“You did no such thing,” he said gently to her. “I will be your friend if you wish. If you need _anything_ while your husband is away again, do not hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know if I can be your friend though,”

“Regardless, you know where to find me,” he said, taking her hand and gently kissing the back of it.

Once again, her stomach fluttered in desire at the chivalrous gesture and in an instant he was gone.

Bulma leaned back against the pillar again and sank to the floor, feeling exhausted, guilty and terribly confused. In just twenty four hours her life had felt like it had become a complete disaster and she did not know what to do. Sure she wanted to cross that line with Vegeta, but could she live with herself afterwards even if Yamcha never found out? What happened when Vegeta simply got bored of her and moved on to some other appealing girl that happened to catch his interest? They ran in all the same circles, it wasn’t like she’d be able to avoid him.

She already knew she had fallen in too deep. In just a few weeks she’d gone from being intrigued by him to completely head over heels. As it was, it would be difficult facing him on a regular basis at any events she happened to be at if he was there, if she added sex to the equation, when things ended she wasn’t sure if she could handle that.

As she thought about it all, she began to cry. She was angry.

She was angry at her mother for placing her in this situation, angry at her father for doing nothing to help her out of this situation when he clearly knew it was the wrong thing for her. She was angry at Yamcha for not even trying to build a relationship; though she thought maybe that was a tad unfair. If things from tonight onward remained like this, maybe things would be alright; however if he hadn’t been so inattentive and seemingly disinterested to begin with, she wouldn’t be in this situation, contemplating breaking her marriage vows, so yes, she was still angry with him. She was angry at Vegeta for not only rejecting her the previous night, but leading her on and making her feel like she was special when all she was, was nothing more than the current flavor of the month in the fucked up marriage of his.

Her train of thought was broken when she heard clapping from the auditorium. _Shit!_ She cursed, wiping her eyes and standing up. The first half was finished and she’d been gone for way too long!

She quickly made her way through the main concourse, which was now crowded for the intermission before the second half started, and found the aisle where hers and Yamcha’s box seats were.

“Where have you been?” Yamcha exclaimed in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she sniffed, still pulling herself together. “I just wasn’t feeling well again, but I think I’m alright now.”

“You look like you’ve been crying,” he observed.

“No, I was just rubbing my eyes,” she lied. “Whatever it is, I think it’s passed.”

“Would you like me to take you home?” he asked.

“Would that be alright?” she asked. Truthfully, she did just want to go home, ask Baba to run her a bath and go to bed and forget the last twenty four hours had even happened.

“Of course!” he smiled. “Let’s go.”

Bulma took his arm and didn’t bother looking to see if Vegeta was watching them leave.

They were almost at the exit of the theater hall when they ran into Vegeta and Lazuli, who had apparently left their seats to get drinks.

Bulma’s stomach dropped at the sight of him, and not in a good way for once.

“Hey! I didn’t realize you guys were here!” Yamcha cheerfully greeted them.

“Yea, we noticed you guys from across the auditorium soon after it started,” Lazui said. “Are you guys getting drinks? The line that way is really long, you’d better hurry,”

“No, Bulma isn’t feeling great again, so we are sneaking out and going back home,” Yamcha said.

“Still hungover from last night?” Lazuli chuckled. “I hear you; I drank way too much last night as well,”

“That must be it,” she nodded, avoiding eye contact with the other woman. She didn’t know what she knew or what she didn’t know and she felt horribly awkward in her presence now. Did she know too how she’d thrown herself at her husband the previous night? Did she know that only a half hour or so ago, her husband had her pinned against a wall with his tongue down her throat and it had been the most exciting moment of her life? She swallowed hard as a lump in her throat began to burn again at the thought of everything.

Absentmindedly, she made eye contact with Vegeta who looked as though he was trying to not look concerned by her current state. “I hope you feel better,” he said, giving her a quick, apologetic look before dismissively looking away from her.

It hurt, she realized and decided in that moment that she’d made the right decision in not pursuing anything further with him. If it was this hard now, how much worse would she feel if they had been intimate? “Thank you,” she replied.

“We’ll catch up with you guys another time,” Yamcha said and the two couples parted ways.

“What did you do to her?” Lazuli asked as soon as she was confident they were out of ear shot.

“Nothing,” Vegeta shrugged.

“Bullshit you did _nothing!_ ” she exclaimed. “You were both gone for like half of the first act, at _least_. You expect me to believe you did _nothing_ in that time?”

“We had a discussion,” he replied vaguely. “She decided she cannot handle everything an _adulterous affair_ would entail.”

“Figures,” she snorted. “The _nice_ pretty ones are always either too needy or don’t have the stomach for it. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Vegeta didn’t reply. He genuinely felt bad that he’d hurt her. That had not been his intention. He sincerely was drawn to her. He ultimately respected her loyalty to her husband and was glad he had been truthful with her this evening so if they did embark on an affair and that lifestyle wasn’t for her, she understood what it was she was doing, but he felt bad that he’d hurt her.

They headed back to their seats to finish the rest of the show.

Lazuli was content that Vegeta would likely find some other unsuspecting girl to prey on, but Vegeta was feeling like he should have handled things a little better with Bulma and he could not concentrate on the rest of the performance as he thought about Bulma and what had just happened. He could understand why she would be upset and he should have explained himself better so as to not make it sound like he viewed her as some toy to play with temporarily and then discard. He supposed that was technically what she was; that was the nature of these things. They were fun for a little while and then eventually ran their course. However usually the other party was someone who was alright with that and looking for a short term extra marital affair and the understanding was mutual: no emotional attachments. Bulma was different. She felt neglected and abandoned and craved that emotional attachment. If her husband weren’t so senseless, he knew she wouldn’t be considering an affair in the first place; he should have realized that sooner and not continued trying to seduce her.

He wished now that he had thought that part through first before deciding to pursue her the moment he had laid eyes on her. He did genuinely like her and had both their circumstances been different, maybe they could have had a chance at something different than just a physical short term affair.

While he felt bad the more he thought about it, he decided she was right to have been the one to come to her senses before anything further had happened. He just hoped she would not despise him after this. He certainly did not want that.

Vegeta knew that Yamcha would be leaving in a few days. He would give her a few days on her own before checking to make sure she was alright; he had meant what he’d said when he’d told her he would still be her friend if she wanted him to be. 

* * *

 

Bulma did not speak to Yamcha much on their way home from the theater. Her mind was a million miles away wondering what had just happened and what would have happened if she hadn’t started over thinking things.

She felt like she’d led Vegeta on, but also felt like he’d been simply playing her this whole time and she’d bought into it hook, line and sinker like a little fool, exactly the way he’d expected her to.

She made it home and asked Baba to run her a bath; she had every intention of just having a relaxing soak, a glass of wine and go to bed early.

Bulma climbed into the warm water, closed her eyes and relaxed; her glass of wine in hand. She was so hurt and confused by everyone around her. Nothing made sense! She began to think about the previous evening now that her head was clear and not impaired.

She had been so drunk last night that she’d have let Vegeta do whatever he’d wanted with her and would not have protested, yet he did nothing despite his constant flirting and obvious innuendos since she’d met him. He’d fooled her into thinking they would have sex and sent her home. Why? Did that mean he did care for her? Or did he not want her as much as she’d thought he had. If such was the case, why did he kiss her like he had this evening? That was not a kiss from a man who wasn’t interested. Yet he’d blown her off and called her a child the same as Yamcha had the previous night. Had he stayed behind and laughed at her afterwards? And what was with tonight? Last night she was just someone to be mocked, but tonight he wanted her?

She began to cry again as she thought about everything. All she wanted was to be wanted and loved by someone, was that so much to ask for? She finished her wine, exited the bath and went to bed, as planned. What she hadn’t planned on was Yamcha turning in fairly early as well.

They both laid there for a little while, before she decided to be bold and crawled in close to him, placing her head on his shoulder and an arm across his abdomen and waited for him to reciprocate. She waited for several minutes and he didn’t respond so she began lightly kissing his neck.

“I thought you weren’t feeling well?” he said to her, gently pushing her away.

“I wasn’t but I think I’m okay now,” she replied, looking up at him and feeling her heart sink at being rejected, yet again.

“Just have some rest,” he said. “I’m not really in the mood right now,”

Bulma moved away from him and settled on her side of the bed. Once again, she felt as though she was going to cry. “When are you ever in the mood?” she asked bitterly, instead of crying.

“I am, just… not right now,” he replied.

“Or _ever,_ ” she snorted. “Are you having an affair with someone else?”

“What! No!” he exclaimed. “What on earth would make you ask such a thing as ludicrous as that?”

Bulma shrugged. “Well, you won’t touch me unless you’re drunk, and I heard at that party last night that apparently it’s not uncommon for couples to mess around and have affairs with others in arranged marriages so I figure you must be getting it from somewhere, since it’s definitely not from me.”

Yamcha sighed. “That’s true, many couples do look for extra marital affairs, but I can assure you, I am not having an affair. I promise. I know we haven’t been _intimate_ all that much, but I would never do that to you.”

“Then what’s the problem?” she asked, feeling angry and wanting to finally understand what his issue with her was. “Am I horrible in bed? Are you just not attracted to me?”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “It’s none of those things, Bulma. Just go to sleep,”

“No,” she insisted. “I deserve to know what the problem is! I am tired of begging for your attention like a dog and getting shot down. Hell you show your _dog_ more affection and preference than me!”

Yamcha shrugged, unsure of what to say to her.

“Are you still in love with my mother?” she asked him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snorted.

“You know I found a bunch of her letters stored away in that room you let me have,” she said, sitting up to confront him.

“Okay, so?” he shrugged, gesturing with his hands. “I had a lot of stuff stored in there that I haven’t thought about or looked at in _years,”_

“Right,” she rolled her eyes.

“You’re over thinking things. Look, I know this isn’t easy for you, a lot has been asked of you; you’ve left everything you’ve ever known to marry me and come live here and I’m too busy right now to be able to help you ease into this new roll you’ve been thrown into. I get it,” he said. “But you don’t understand that this is hard for me as well. I am used to being on my own, not having to think about someone else. Not only that, but you are the _daughter_ of my ex fiancé. I loved your mother, very much at one time and it didn’t work out. When your mother suggested that I marry you, I didn’t think it would be this… difficult. You’re not her and I’m not asking you to be, but you are her daughter and I thought that would make things easier, but it’s made it harder and more complicated.”

“What’s harder?” she asked, now wishing she hadn’t bothered bringing this up at all. “I have tried so hard to make you happy and I get no response from you. What am I doing wrong?”

“You have not done anything wrong,” he said gently, holding his hand up. “Maybe we should have discussed our individual _expectations_ of the other going into this. I do not expect you to feel you have to _do_ _things_ in order to make this marriage work. I just… and this is in no way any fault of your own, but I cannot look at you without thinking that you are the daughter I should have had with her had we gotten married like we should have.”

Bulma brought her knees up to her chest and thought on that a moment. This was completely fucked up so much worse than she’d imagined and she wished he’d just told her she was lousy in bed or that he found her highly unattractive like she’d assumed. “So you see me as a daughter, not a wife,”

“In a sense, yes,” he nodded. “I’m sorry! I should have thought that through more thoroughly before we were married, you’re a beautiful girl! What man wouldn’t be attracted to you? I thought it was something I could get over, and maybe in time I will, but for right now, I simply cannot reciprocate anything romantic. Not without feeling extreme guilt.”

She sat there a nodded, feeling numb and did not have a response for him.

“This is a good thing,” he continued, trying to not hurt her feelings. “I mean, who wants a wife that is intimate with her husband just because she feels it’s her duty? I don’t want that from you,”

So he thought he was being a gentleman, she wondered? “So what _do_ you want from me and why did you marry me if you have no interest in doing what married people do?”

“Because I’m a politician, all politicians have families,” he shrugged. “It doesn’t look good if people think I’m a playboy, which I am not; I never was and I never tried to court anyone after things ended with your mother.”

“So I’m essentially a pawn to be used for your political image?” she whispered, trying not to choke.

“Well, I wouldn’t quite put it that way, I am fond of you and I think we make a great couple together, just sex complicates things and I think it would be better if-”

“I’d have rather you told me I was horrible in bed,” she told him honestly.

“Well, I didn’t because for one, I don’t think that’s true and for two, that’s not a very nice thing to tell someone, your wife especially,” he said dumbly.

“And this is?” she cried. “That I’m doomed to just be a trophy wife, wasting my life away here because it looks better to the public if you have a wife?”

Yamcha sighed. “You’re right, that’s not a nice thing to say either and I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings,”

“Great job!”

“Can we not just be friends and companions?” he asked. “I really do enjoy your company. I am glad you’re here and I do want you to be happy here,”

_Friends_. That was also what Vegeta had said this evening. That he’d still be her friend if she wished. What if she didn’t want any friends? “You’re never around long enough for us to even become friends or companions,” she reminded him, getting out of their bed and taking her pillow with her.

“I’ll work on that,” he said, trying to make her feel better.

“Good night, Yamcha.” She mumbled, not wanting to talk about it anymore; she just wanted this entire day to end. She left their bedroom and went to sleep in her work room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another gorgeous piece by Sbubbia, inspired by this chapter as well. It can be found on Tumblr AND I found out today from her that there's pillows of the image on her Red Bubble page! Go check it out! :D


	8. Chapter 8

Bulma woke up the next morning with a crick in her neck. It took her a moment to remember where she was and why. She’d spent the night in her lab on the floor with her pillow and one of the couch blankets. She made a mental note to figure something better out for tonight; there was no way she would be sharing a bed with Yamcha after what he’d told her last night.

She sat up and buried her head in her hands as she recalled everything from the previous day. She’d spent most of the day hung over from the masquerade party. Then Yamcha had offered to take her out in the evening; they’d had a very nice evening, overall… Until they went to the theater and she’d seen Vegeta.

Her stomach rolled in summersaults as she remembered kissing him and it had been wonderful until she realized that she was nothing more than Vegeta’s current amusement and having affairs was as normal to him as changing his clothes. That had been a major turn off and she felt like she’d been played by him. Then they’d come home and she’d tried to instigate a romantic interlude with Yamcha to forget about how lost and betrayed she’d felt from her interaction with Vegeta, only to have been rejected and told that he had no romantic interest in her and more than likely never would, since he saw her as the daughter he should have had with her mother rather than a marriage mate.

Her throat began to burn as she thought about that. She hated everything and everyone around her. Never in her life had she felt so trapped and alone and not only did she not know what to do, but she had no one to talk her through it. She knew from other friends of hers who had gotten married that it was hard in the beginning, but _this_ hard?

She decided that while Yamcha was gone, she wanted to go home back to her parents place for a while. She may have been angry with both of her parents for selling her out into this mess and essentially condemning her to a ruined life, but maybe her father would have some kind of words of insight for her. Maybe a week or two out of this large, awful house would make her feel better.

Feeling confident about asking Yamcha about that and about telling him she did not want to share a room with him any longer, she got up and made her way to the sitting room where they usually had their breakfast.

Yamcha did not immediately greet her, but tipped the corner of his newspaper over so he could observe her. “Where did you sleep last night?” he asked.

“In my work room,” she answered, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Why would you sleep there instead of one of the other rooms with a comfortable couch?” he asked in confusion.

“Because that’s _my_ room,” she answered, taking a few pancakes. Baba may not have been very personable, but she made the best pancakes she’d ever had. She quietly dug into her breakfast and ate a few bites before dropping her bombshell on him. “I want my own bedroom.”

“What? Why?” he asked with a confused frown, once again tipping down the corner of his newspaper to look at her.

“Because if you have no intention of making this into a _real_ marriage, then I want my own space,” she told him coolly, not looking up from her pancakes. “Fathers don’t share beds with their daughters.”

“Seriously?” he asked her, putting his newspaper down and shooting her an annoyed look.

“I am,” she nodded once, determined to stick to her guns on this one and not feel bad for it. “Or I am until you change your mind, grow up and quit longing for things that never happened. I can function as your friend, now that I understand that’s what’s expected of me. Now that I know any type of physical intimacy or anything remotely resembling a real marriage is apparently out of the question for us, I would feel a lot more comfortable sleeping on my own.”

“I don’t see why you would want to, that room is the master bedroom, fit for a married couple,” he objected. “Not to mention, I have not done anything to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, you haven’t,” she nodded in agreement. “However you grossly offended me last night and you do not treat me like a marriage mate. So unless that changes, I want my own room.”

Yamcha shook his head and snorted at her in disbelief. “Fine,”

She looked at him a moment, surprised that he seemed so upset, almost _offended_ by her request. “Thank you,”

“Actually, if that is truly how you feel, keep the master bedroom for yourself and I’ll just convert my study room to a bedroom; that’s what it was before I bought this place. Would that appease you?”

“It would,” she nodded.

“Good. Go shopping for your own furniture while I am away. A lot of what’s in the bedroom are heirlooms and I wish to keep them for myself,” he said, though she could tell he was not happy with this development.

“Alright,” she agreed.

“Spend what you want, make it your own since you feel so strongly about this not feeling like your own home.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she said, now feeling bad for demanding her own space. Now that she thought about it, it did seem somewhat silly since he would be leaving again in the next few days for a few months, but when he returned, she knew she wouldn’t want to share her space with him again; not as things were between them. “I’m only trying to find my place and so far I feel I have none in your life. I’m not even your wife in the traditional sense, apparently.”

“I understand,” he said. “I only hope I can make it up to you one day,”

“If you want to, I’ll let you,” she said sincerely.

He smiled at her. “If you need help moving things, ask Vegeta to help Roshi. He and Raditz, one of his house staff members, might be able to come help.”

“You won’t be able to do this before you go?” she asked.

“No,” he shook his head. He was feeling extremely uncomfortable with the way things between them were. “I decided this morning that I will leave either tonight or first thing tomorrow,”

 _Of course you are,_ she thought to herself, holding in a heavy sigh, knowing that he was only leaving early because of her. “Alright, I’ll do that,” she nodded instead of confronting him about it; however she absolutely would _not_ be asking Vegeta to help her. She was not ready to talk to him. “I’ll prepare your room for you so it will be ready when you return.”

“Thank you,”

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep the bedroom and I can move to a different one?”

“No, that’s fine,” he shook his head. “I am never home these days and it would be a waste for you to not have it.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I have one more thing to ask of you before you leave,”

“What’s that?”

“I was wondering if I could go and visit my parents for a few weeks while you are away?” she asked, suddenly feeling timid about her request, even though it was a perfectly reasonable one.

“Of course,” he nodded. “I will purchase you a ticket when I go to the station and I will send it back with Roshi.”

“Thank you,” she smiled gratefully at him.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, finishing his coffee quickly. “Going home for a few days might be good for you, rather than being pent up here all on your own.”

They both finished their breakfast in awkward silence. Yamcha began packing his things for his trip and by the end of the day he was gone.

Bulma was happy to see that Yamcha had kept his word and had gotten her a train ticket to travel to her parents place, though it wouldn’t be for another week and a half from now; however that would give her enough time to set things up at the house before leaving. The return ticket was open, so she could stay for as long as she wanted.

In the meantime, she kept herself busy choosing her new bedroom furniture and working on Vegeta’s gun, but it was slow going.

Almost a week after Yamcha’s departure, Vegeta dropped in to see Bulma.

“Master Yamcha is away for an extended period of time,” Baba told him at the door in her usual raspy tone. “However maybe you could lend us a hand in his absence.”

“I came to call on Bulma,” he said. “Yamcha asked Lazuli and myself to make sure she does not go stir crazy while he is away. What do you need assistance with?”

Baba let him in. “I trust I’ll have your full discretion?”

“Of course,” he frowned in concern.

“We need to set up a second bedroom for the master because Bulma refuses to share a room with him for reasons neither of them will disclose. I am terribly worried for her; she only comes out for meals and spends the rest of her time in that room upstairs. She doesn’t even retire to the master bedroom at night,” she explained. “She came with me to select her new bedroom furniture a few days after Yamcha’s departure and most of it has arrived, but it is too heavy for just Roshi to not only move into the master suite and assemble, but some of Yamcha’s furniture cannot be moved. Bulma has helped with what she could, but has since given up. I am in no shape to lend a hand. If you and Roshi could do it, perhaps she would at least take to spending her nights in her bedroom and not on the floor in her work room, foolish girl!”

“Certainly,” he nodded. “I will see what I can do to help. Let me go and get Bulma, you go find Roshi and I’ll see what we can do,”

“She’s in a foul mood, let me warn you!”

He smirked. “Foul, moody women are my favourite.”

“Don’t you be getting any ideas!” She warned, shaking her finger at him. “That poor girl has been through enough. She doesn’t need the likes of you pouring words of honey into her ear and getting her into trouble.”

“Baba, I am hurt. How long have we known one another?” He said in mock offence. “I would do no such thing!”

“Long enough to know that you would pursue _anything_ in a skirt,” she snorted.

“Lucky for Bulma then, she takes to wearing trousers in the confines of her home,” he retorted innocently with a shrug.

“And how would you know that?” She demanded, her hands on her hips.

“I called on her briefly to give her an invitation the last time Yamcha was away and she was working away in her work space wearing trousers.”

“That’s right, I’d forgotten,” she nodded. “Go and find her and I will look for that silly old man; probably napping on the job,”

“Or peeping in some unsuspecting woman’s bedroom window,” Vegeta suggested humorously.

“I wouldn’t put it past him!” She snorted in disgust. “It’s a good thing there are no immediate neighbours surrounding us.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, heading up the stairs.

He knocked twice on the door.

“What?” He heard her sigh and a moment later she opened the door. He noted that her face dropped at the sight of him; usually she lit up when she saw him. “What are you doing here?” She asked awkwardly, not inviting him in. Instead, she ran her fingers through her messy hair, which was piled on top of her head. Once again, she was wearing a pair of pants and an oversized white shirt that fell off her shoulder and it was clear she was not wearing a bra beneath the top. While she certainly did not look her best, all he wanted to do was sweep her up and carry her to bed.

“I came to check on you,” he said, walking into her room and closing the door. Inside the room was a disaster. There were tools strewn all over the table, a wide open text book and what appeared to be his gun taken apart in small pieces on the table.

“I’m fine,” she sighed. “Working on your pistol, actually.

“I see that,” he nodded. “How’s it coming?”

“Not as easy as I thought it would be,” she admitted. “I think I found the problem though,”

“What was that?” He asked with interest, impressed that she’d figured out what was wrong with it. He’d cleaned it several times and had not been able to figure it out.

“The spring in the trigger was corroded and rusted,” she told him. “I found an old textbook in Yamcha’s library. Apparently it’s a common issue with this specific gun. You need to keep it not only clean, but lubricated.”

“Interesting,” he commented, picking up the rusted out coil that she had on the table. “Is it fixable?”

“It is,” she nodded. “I went to the gun smith shop and ordered one. It might take a few months to come in,”

“Thank you,” he said, putting the spring down and looking around the room, frowning at the cot and blanket at the other end of the room, wondering what was up with that? “Are you alright?” He asked her.

“I’m fine,” she answered, crossing her arms over her chest modestly, just realizing now that it would be plainly obvious that she was not wearing a bra beneath the shirt she was wearing.

“What’s with the moving around the house and sleeping in here?” He asked, nodding at the corner of the room where her blanket was.

“Nothing,” she said bitterly, looking away from him, looking like she was trying not to cry.

“Does not seem like _nothing_ to me,” he said softly. “Baba said that you need help moving Yamcha’s things into another room?”

Bulma rolled her eyes. Nosy old woman only went out of her way to communicate and put in the effort with her when she thought there was something wrong. “Yea,” she nodded. “I’m sleeping in here until his stuff is moved out.”

“I recall telling you that if you required anything in your husband’s absence, you were to let me know,” he reminded her. “I meant what I’d said,”

“I know,” she nodded, wiping her eyes, feeling herself becoming emotional. “I just didn’t think I could handle seeing you,”

“And why is that?” He asked. “Nothing happened that you should feel ashamed over.”

“Maybe not, but I’m still an idiot,” she said, her voice cracking. “I just want to be left alone right now. If Yamcha wants his things moved, he can do it himself when he comes back,”

“And how long will that be?” He asked.

“I don’t know, two or three months?” She shrugged.

“You are going to sleep on the floor for two or three months?” He asked in shock. “Why not just sleep in your bed and move it when he returns?”

“Because!” She cried. “It’s _his!_ The less to do with him the better. We talked after we got home after the show that night…”

He began to worry, assuming she meant that she’d told Yamcha about the kiss they’d shared.

“Apparently the reason he is the way he is with me because he sees me as the daughter he never had with my mother!” She vented. “Now, I don’t know if my mother is aware of that, but isn’t that something _he_ should have thought of before marrying me?”

Vegeta frowned and was completely speechless.

“So I told him that if that’s how he feels, I want my _own_ room!” She continued. “He said I could have the master bedroom since he’s never home. I don’t want to even sleep in his bed though even though he’s not home. _That’s_ why I’m sleeping in here.”

“That is a bit…”

“Don’t you _dare_ say childish!” She snapped at him.

“I was going to say _extreme,”_ he said. He exhaled heavily through his mouth, his cheeks puffing out. So _that_ was it. He had wracked his mind trying to come up with a reason that made sense as to why Yamcha wouldn’t touch her. While he understood his friend well enough to see that it was against his high moral standards to bed her if he viewed her that way, then why had he agreed to marry her in the first place? It didn’t make sense.

“Extreme that I want my own room or extreme I’m sleeping on the floor when I have a bed to sleep in?” She asked.

“The latter,” he deadpanned.

“I’m _sick_ of being told I’m a child,” she spat.

He remembered now that he had called her a child the night of the masquerade. “I am sorry, I did not mean that and I certainly did not intend to hurt or offend you,”

“It’s not just you,” she snorted. “Apparently Yamcha thinks I’m nothing more than a child,”

“Well, he is obviously wrong,” he replied, stepping closer to her and reaching for her.

“Stay away. You tricked me into thinking we were going to do _something_!” She reminded him, stepping back. “Then you ditched me and rejected me, just like _he_ does! Then the next night you kissed me within an inch of my life and then told me I’m essentially just one of many!”

“I did not reject you,” he said calmly.

“Then what the _hell_ was that?” she asked, feeling again like she was going to cry. “You made it seem like you _cared_ for me!”

“I do,” he said quietly, wanting to calm her down. “I would not be here if I did not care,”

“You _care_ about getting me in your bed,” she retorted.

Vegeta smirked at her. “I would like that, however that is not why I am here. I do feel bad that I unintentionally hurt you,”

Bulma snorted at him. “Then why _are_ you here?”

He was silent a moment as he thought about it. “I cannot stop thinking of you,” he admitted, which was the truth. “I know your husband is gone and I thought you might like some company,”

Bulma swallowed down a lump in her throat as she slumped against her work table. “I _do_ need some company,” she admitted, even though she knew she should be insisting that he leave.

He sighed and attempted a second time to go to her. This time, she didn’t step away or push him away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, burying her face in his neck and inhaling his scent; damn he smelled good, she realized.

“Stop apologizing,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist in reciprocation, but leaning back to look at her face. When she looked up at him, he kissed her gently on the mouth. 

 _The hell with it,_ she thought as she leaned back into him and kissed him back. _Damned the consequences, I will worry about them later._

Vegeta smiled into her kiss as he kissed her back, leaning into her as he deepened the kiss and claimed her mouth fully.

She sighed into his mouth as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She knew she was being emotional and irrational, but she didn’t care. She craved and valued the emotional connection more than anything else at the moment.

“Not here,” he said, gently pushing her away after a moment.

“Why not?” she asked breathlessly, feeling the disappointment of rejection beginning to take hold of her once again. He couldn’t keep doing this to her; this teasing her and then promptly pushing her away.

“I have something far better in mind for you, if you are agreeable to it,” he remedied, noting her disappointment.

“Like what?” she asked.

He shrugged casually. “Lazuli is off somewhere for a few days and will not be home until late in the day tomorrow,” he told her. “Come to my home,”

Her breath was caught in her lungs at the suggestion. “I _can’t!_ ” she whispered, her eyes wide in shock.

“Why not?” he asked in amusement. “Tell your house staff you are visiting Lazuli; no one knows she is gone. Spend the evening with me and when you return the next morning, say you lost track of time and when you realized how late it was, you were too afraid or so drunk that you were too scared to safely make the trip home.”

“Ohh,” she said, thinking about it. “I see you _have_ done this before,”

He snorted at her and grabbed a piece of paper from the table and began writing out an actual invitation and signed it with his wife’s name. “Here,” he said, giving it to her. “If your nosy house staff asks,”

“Are you sure?” she asked, nervously.

“Absolutely,” he nodded. “If you are,”

“Your house staff is worthy?” she asked, her mind already in panic mode.

“My house staff could not only not give a shit, but are paid and compensated well enough that I trust their discretion implicitly,” he said confidently. “You have nothing to worry about on their end.”

Bulma thought about it a moment and smiled mischievously at him. “The hell with it, I’ll come.”

He smiled at her. “Good! Now come and help me move your husband’s junk around and then you can plan on coming to my place.”

Bulma emerged from her work room with him following behind her. She led him downstairs to where the master bedroom was.

“So this is where the magic happens?” he said, leaning into her ear behind her.

“Or where it _doesn’t_ happen,” she corrected him.

He chuckled at her. “Where are we moving everything?”

“The bed and armoire are all that’s left,” she said. “And my things are at the back of the house in the dining room because that’s as far as anyone could get them.”

“I see,” he nodded. “Perhaps tomorrow would be better. I will ask Raditz to accompany me when I bring you back home tomorrow and we will get you all set up,”

“Would you?” she asked, feeling relieved that she may not have to spend the entire duration of Yamcha’s absence sleeping on the floor of her workspace.

“I would,” he nodded. “Where is that old woman?”

“Not sure, probably yelling at Roshi,” Bulma shrugged, leaving the room. “I’ll go find her and let her know of the change of plans.”

Sure enough, they found her in the kitchen yelling at Roshi who was drunk from whiskey. “He’s in no shape to help anyone do anything!” she spat in disgust.

“I didn kno…” he shrugged. Bottle of whiskey in his right hand.

“It’s okay, Baba,” Bulma told her. “I showed Vegeta the rooms, he said he will come back tomorrow with one of his own house staff to help move everything around.”

“Raditz and I can have it done in less than an hour,” he said. “In the meantime, the reason for my visit was to deliver an invitation to Bulma from my wife, who has asked if she would come for a meal.”

“And why did she not come herself?” Baba asked suspiciously.

“She’s at the stylist,” he said. “She did not mention it to me until she was on her way out,”

Bulma blinked and willed herself to not turn red. _Wow he’s good,_ she thought as she listened to him explain why it was him and not Lazuli herself who had dropped the sudden invitation off. Baba seemed to buy it, though.

“It is not nice weather,” she pointed out. “However I think a break from here would be a good thing for you,”

“I’d like a change of scenery for the evening,” Bulma said.

“Well you’d better get going then,” Baba snorted at her. “You can’t be seen as you are! It’s a scandal to have you dressed as you are and have a guest in!”

“Right,” Bulma nodded and turned to leave. “Let Lazuli know that I will see her soon,”

“I will,” he said. “I will see myself out and will return in the early afternoon to help, Baba,”

“I’ll look forward to it,” she said. “I cannot deal with such disorganization!”

Vegeta chuckled at her and turned to follow Bulma out.

“I suppose I will see you in a few hours then,” she said once they were at the front door, suddenly feeling shy and self-conscious. Was she actually going to go through with this? “What should I wear?”

Vegeta stepped closer to her and leaned into her left ear. “You may come as you are or wear whatever you are most comfortable in or whatever you think looks best on the floor.”

She inhaled sharply and looked at him wide-eyed.

Vegeta smirked deviously as her complexion turned beet red. Oh yes, he was going to have a lot of fun with her tonight.

* * *

 

Bulma spent the afternoon having a long bath and making sure she looked perfect, though not _too_ perfect. She’d still be seeing Baba on her way out and didn’t want her to suspect she was trying to look too nice this evening.

She was careful to pack a night dress discreetly in her bag and insisted on taking the carriage herself to visit her friends, which wasn’t that difficult being that Baba never drove the coach and Roshi was too drunk.

“I’ll be careful,” she told Baba.

“If the weather is bad or you are not comfortable in the dark, ask if you may spend the night,” Baba advised her. “Hopefully they will not be too put out,”

 _This is almost too easy,_ Bulma thought to herself. “We’ll see,” she said. “I’ll try to not be out too late.” She did not want it to sound like she had no intention of returning this evening if things went the way she assumed they might. She truly hoped Vegeta was not setting her up again to fool her.

It didn’t take her long to make it to his home; she remembered the way. Someone took her horse and carriage and took them towards where she assumed was the barn. Instead of waiting for someone to escort her, she went herself to the front door to knock. The less of a good look someone got of her the better.

“Oh!” she commented in surprise as Vegeta answered the door. “I wasn’t expecting _you_ to answer the door.”

“I gave my main house staff the evening off,” he said, letting her in. “Since I am well aware of your worries about this getting out.”

Bulma blushed and smiled at him. “Well, I am nervous, but if you say they’re trust worthy, then I believe you.”

“They are, but I really want you to enjoy the evening,” he said, offering to take her jacket.

“Thank you,” she said, shrugging her jacket off. She was wearing a royal blue gown that was low cut in the bust, tight in the torso past her hips, down to her knees before it fanned out.

“You look simply stunning,” he said, hanging up her jacket.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “I didn’t know what to wear-”

Vegeta cut off her rambling and kissed her.

“Come,” he said, taking her hand a moment later. “I will give you a tour.”

“I’ve been here, remember?”

“Of course I remember,” he said, pulling her to walk with him. “However you only saw part of my home. I do recall asking you if you wanted a tour last time and you declined.”

“Correction,” she cut in. “You asked me if I wanted to see your bedroom,” she reminded him.

“Be patient, that will be a part of the tour,” he said, looking back at her over his shoulder and wagging his eyebrows at her. “Though I know you were curious, even then,”

Embarrassed, she lightly slapped him on the side of his arm. “You sure are certain of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he confirmed. “Here is the dining room, which you have already seen,” he said, standing in the doorway briefly before moving on to the sitting room, which she’d also already seen. “This is the kitchen,”

“It smells wonderful in here!” she exclaimed as they walked in. “Did you cook everything yourself?”

“Of course not!” he scoffed. “I had the kitchen staff throw together a decent meal to impress you before giving them the evening off.”

She giggled at him.

“I suppose it would have impressed you more if I had told you I’d done it all myself?”

“I’d have laughed at the thought of you in an apron and chef’s hat cooking away and the kitchen looking like a bomb went off in it,”

“Not unlike your work room I take it?” he snorted.

“Pretty close,” she admitted. “Though that’s a disorganized mess,”

He gave her a look.

“What?” she exclaimed. “It is! It may _look_ like a disaster to everyone else, but it’s an _organized_ mess.”

“Right,” he rolled his eyes at her.

“Fine!” she snipped playfully at him, crossing her arms. “Fix your own broken guns from now on,”

“I would not even attempt it,” he said. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Sure,” she nodded and watched him go to one of the cupboards and grab two glasses. As she watched him select a bottle of wine from a rack of several different wines and began to open it, her heart sank. Not out of guilt for being there, but because of how _easy_ it was being with him. There was no awkward silences or conversation ever between them. They could go from joking to flirtatious banter in a second and back to joking around. They simply played so well off of one another so well it made her sad.

“Everything alright or would you like me to escort you home?” he asked, picking up on her sudden down cline of mood and wondered if she was already regretting her choice in accepting his invitation; he hoped not, he was really enjoying her company. However if she wasn’t ready for this step, he’d be content simply having dinner with her and sending her home.

“No, I’m fine,” she said, accepting a glass of wine from him. “I was just thinking of something else.” she said, not wanting to tell him how much she was enjoying just chatting with him for fear of sounding like an idiot. She knew why she was here and she didn’t want to say or do anything to blow it. If he rejected her again, she’d be crushed.

“If you aren’t comfortable…” he started, wanting her to know that if she did decide she wanted to leave, she could.

“No, I am,” she said. “I’m a little _too_ comfortable, actually. That’s what I was thinking.”

Vegeta smirked at her. “Come with me,” he said, taking her hand and taking his own glass of wine with him.

He showed her the rest of the house. They walked passed a closed door and he mentioned vaguely that was Lazuli’s room.

“You both have separate rooms too?” she asked in surprise.

“She tends to bring her conquests home with her, I tend to prefer having them anywhere _but_ at my home,” he told her.

“Right, but you don’t stay together when you’re not… with other people?”

“No,” he shook his head. “We essentially lead completely different lives. Sometimes we come together, but the majority of the time, we reside in our own quarters. Come,”

Bulma frowned, but before she could ask more, he led her into an immaculate bedroom and closed the door behind them. The carpet was a deep royal blue, almost the same shade as her dress; and the walls were completely white without any decorations on them. It seemed very cold, but at the same time it was sleek, clean and uncluttered. It had an appeal. Thick, crimson curtains framing the windows were the only adornment and it added a somewhat dramatic effect to the otherwise sparse room.

“This is your room?” she asked in surprise. She remembered being impressed with how large the master suite in Yamcha’s home was when she’d first arrived, this made that look small by comparison.

“It is,” he nodded. “And not many venture here,”

Bulma turned and looked at him. So maybe she _was_ special after all? She took a sip of her wine as she thought for a moment. “I’m supposed to be flattered?”

He cocked his head to the side in amusement as he took a sip of wine as well.

“I am,” she admitted, worried she’d offended him.

“You should be,” he said. “I may be a notorious womanizer, but I do not just go after _anyone,_ ”

“Right,” she nodded. “Let’s not talk about that anymore.”

“We can talk about anything you wish,” he said, approaching her.

“Or not talk?” she suggested playfully. Truthfully, she was nervous and already turned on and wanting to jump right in with both feet before she lost her nerve and asked him to let her go home.

“I can accommodate that,” he said, taking her wine glass and placing both glasses on a table.

Vegeta captured her mouth in a heated kiss and she did not hold back. In turn, she kissed him back ferociously, wanting him to know how much she wanted, no _needed_ this night to happen. She knew it was wrong, but she didn’t care. 

His mouth eventually moved passed her lips and up to her ear where he then began to travel down her neck to her shoulder before suddenly spinning her around. “Vegeta,” she sighed softly as his fingers began to make quick work of her dress, unlacing the back. “What if someone finds out?”

“They won’t,” he grunted, prying the back of her dress open and tugging it down so that it all fell in a bunch around her feet. He held his breath a moment as he took in her nearly nude form from behind. The silhouette of her back and the dimples just above her rear made him even harder than he already was.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and let his hands explore the smooth soft skin of her long waist. She sighed heavily in anticipation, enjoying his gentle petting and kneading of her bare skin. Yamcha never worshipped her body this way even the few times they had been intimate. She tipped her head black, resting the back of her head on his shoulder contentedly as his hands moved all over her as soothingly and as carefully as though he were moulding a piece of clay into a masterpiece.

Before long, he decided to be brave and slid a hand down the front of her undergarment, his fingers delving cautiously into her already damp folds and lightly brushing her hidden gem, causing her to gasp in surprise. He experimentally did that a few times before slowly and carefully inserting a finger inside her. She was tight and very wet and the throbbing of his own cock in expectation of what was yet to come was nearly excruciating by this point.

After a moment, he let her go to remove his own clothing.

Bulma looked at him bug eyed with concern as he revealed himself before her. While she’d thought Yamcha was well equipped, she realized maybe she’d been wrong. Vegeta was quite a bit bigger and her brow creased in concern. She hadn’t forgotten the unpleasantness of her wedding night or the few times they had done this together.

“Do not worry,” he smirked in pride of her reaction to his obviously being better endowed than her husband. “You will be more than ready for it long before we begin.”

She looked at him and didn’t believe him, but at the same time, wasn’t going to be put off because of the worry of a little bit of discomfort at this point.

Taking her silence as agreement to proceed, he took her hand and brought her to bed, encouraging her to lay down. Vegeta bent over her and captured her mouth in a smouldering kiss that made her forget about the implications of what they were doing.

His hands slid the top of her corset down, revealing her pert, ample breasts to him. Quickly, he reached behind her, expertly undoing the laces quicker than she'd have ever thought anyone could undo a corset; discarding the garment entirely.

“You’re good at that,” she commented, remembering Vegeta’s unsavoury reputation for being a womanizer.

“Hmmm,” he smirked. “Practice makes perfect,” he said jokingly.

She didn’t have time to think about whether that bothered her yet again that she was apparently nothing more than one of his many conquests because his mouth closed around one of her breasts, sucking and swirling his tongue aggressively around the nipple and making the dampness between her legs grow into a dull ache that was becoming more and more distracting by the second.

Vegeta’s hands lightly danced down her sides as his mouth greedily devoured her breast as though he were a starving man. His own wife may be beautiful to look at and have the most delicate, perfectly proportioned body, but she did not have much up top, which he regretted. Vegeta was the type of man who appreciated all the different body types and while he generally favored women who were petite in nature like his wife, he also loved women who were curvy and voluptuous and had something to grab on to. Bulma was like the perfect combination of both.

Once satisfied, his mouth moved downwards along her abdomen, alternating licking and nipping his way down to her panties, the only item of clothing she was still wearing.

She took a breath as he removed them with his teeth. She couldn’t be more excited and hot and bothered if she tried. Conscience and the matter of right and wrong didn’t even cross her mind at this point anymore.

Panties gone, his mouth sought out another prize. Before she knew what was happening, his tongue brushed against her clit lightly and he slid a finger inside her and began slowly moving it in and out of her as he licked her most sensitive and undiscovered place.

Bulma writhed and moaned helplessly as sparks of pleasure vibrated through her unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She fisted her hands in his hair, rocked her hips into his face and tipped her head back in ecstasy as he continued on with his mouth and fingers without let up. Yamcha usually used his fingers to prepare her, but never had he put his mouth on her and right then in that very moment she knew Vegeta was it for her. It was terribly unfair to Yamcha, but how could she ever be content with what they had when in only a few minutes Vegeta made her feel things she’d never felt before?

She brought her knees together as she suddenly felt overwhelmed by the sensation he was giving her down there. She was sensitive and while she certainly did not want him to stop, it was almost too much feeling at once.

Vegeta growled at her for disrupting him before placing his hands on her knees and spreading her legs as wide as they could go before bringing his mouth back to her clit and alternated licking it gently with the tip of his tongue and sucking on it urgently.

Bulma fisted the sheets as she bucked her hips into his mouth. “Oh god,” she whispered as she felt her insides coiling up as though winding up in preparation for something yet to come. “Please, please don’t…”

“Hmmn,” he grunted in satisfaction as he kept one hand on her right knee, ensuring she didn’t suffocate him by closing her legs around his head. His other hand he brought back to her center and slid two fingers into her tight, wet entrance this time and began pumping them into her slowly, brushing her insides. “Please don’t what?”

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, lost in the ministrations of his hands and mouth.

He didn’t stop. He wanted her on the edge of ultimate pleasure and begging for more before finally claiming her fully.

Vegeta stopped suddenly and bent over her to kiss her again; she moaned as she could taste herself on his mouth and she wasn’t sure if she was aroused or disgusted by that; she didn’t have long to contemplate it as he nudged her legs wide apart urgently with one of his thick thighs, settling himself between her legs.

“Ohh-” she moaned into his mouth as his length slid into her in one, swift, long movement without warning, stretching her wider than she’d ever been before.

He broke his lips from hers and held himself up by his arms, looking down at her, still inside her, but not moving for a moment, letting her body accept and adjust to him. She was excessively tight despite the wetness from her arousal and he did not want to hurt her… still practically a virgin she was so tight. His instincts had been correct; the idiot hadn’t had her more than a few times before leaving it would seem. No matter, he would gladly break her in for him in his absence he thought; his cock growing harder inside her with the confirmed knowledge that she’d barely been touched.

He pulled out of her slowly and then sunk back in experimentally a few times, wanting to make sure she was alright to continue, before lowering his upper body down onto her. Buried fully inside her, he spread her legs wider, hooking one of her knees around his hip. He laced his fingers with hers, pinning them above her head, as he lodged his manhood deep inside of her, slowly.

Bulma moaned loudly, more loud than she meant to, as she felt the entire length of his cock driving into her, penetrating her deeper than she had ever been before. It was both a conflicted feeling of discomfort, yet so satisfying at the same time and she never wanted him to stop. If he could delve deeper inside her than he already was, she’d demand him to go deeper. Each downward penetration of the rock of his hips stroking something deep inside her, giving her a tingling feeling in the deepest part of her abdomen that was becoming steadily stronger and pulsing outwards, threatening to cause her to combust from the inside out.

He grunted from exertion as he looked down at her, pleased to see she was enjoying herself. Wanting to prolong the experience, he slid himself out of her, earning him a whine of complaint. She had been so close, and he knew that.

Vegeta chuckled at her as he took her hand, leading her to the middle of the bed and encouraged her to bend over in front of him on her hands and knees, spreading her legs apart.

“What are you doing?” She objected in curiosity, squirming in his rough grip; his fingers digging somewhat uncomfortably into her sides as he positioned her the way he wanted her. She gasped as he entered her again, slowly this time. Once he’d chosen a pace he liked, he placed a hand on her abdomen and pulled her up against his chest; his hands playing with her breasts, gently kneading and massaging them. 

“Touch yourself,” he commanded between heavy breaths; her legs were spread wide as he moved in and out of her, leaving her precious jewel exposed. When she looked up, she could see them in the full length mirror on the wall across from the bed that she had not noticed was there until now.

She felt and saw her whole body turn red from embarrassment at his request as she looked at him through the mirror. His eyes locking intensely with her in such a way she couldn’t disobey him even if she’d wanted to.

Bulma placed two fingers in her mouth before lightly stroking her swollen, neglected clit. Her breath hitched as that simple, gentle contact caused a stronger wave of pleasure to race through her. She was glad in that moment that he had her positioned hard against his body as he did; she wouldn’t have been able to remain upright.

“That’s right,” he encouraged her gently as he watched her touch herself as he drove his cock into her over and over again. “The next time you are alone in bed, I want you to think about this and touch yourself.” He said, nodding at their reflection in the mirror.

She moaned something unintelligible as she bit her lip and threw her head back, resting it against his shoulder. Her eyes closed as she gave herself over to him completely. He could have asked her to do anything in that moment and she’d have done it.

Beginning to feel his own climax beginning to gather in his center, he upped his pace. “I want you to come for me,” he said in an authoritative tone. “Come hard on my cock.”

She let out something between a cry and gasp as he thrusted himself hard into her right then. How could she _make_ herself come, she wondered vaguely. She’d never experienced an orgasm before; if the big finish was as incredible as what she felt leading up to it, she wasn’t sure she would be able to think straight again.

Sensing she needed a little bit of encouragement, he nipped the side of her neck lightly before nuzzling his lips into the shell of her ear. “I am going to fuck you so well tonight, you’re not going to be able to walk right for a week,” he said in a low tone. “And you won’t be able to think of anything but having my cock buried deep inside you ever again.”

“Yes,” she moaned in agreement, feeling exhausted, but a fresh wave of arousal flowed through her at the way he’d said _tonight,_ implying that there would be more after this.

“You know after this I will have to punish you,” he continued. “Look at us. Both being unfaithful to our respective mates.”

“We _both_ deserve to be punished,” she agreed, feeling like she was about to explode at any moment now. She wanted to reach climax so bad.

“We do,” he grunted, gripping her thighs harder as he felt his own release fast approaching. “I need you to come _now_. Come for me,”

“Umm,” she moaned, barely listening to his dirty talk and he put a hand on hers that was stroking her clit to help her out.

“That’s right,” he coaxed soothingly. “I can feel you growing wetter by the second at the thought of all the _other_ things I am going to do with you.”

She cried out as her climax happened right then. It ripped through her so intensely that it consumed every other thought she had as it rippled through her entire body. She barely noticed as Vegeta leaned her forward so he could impale her even harder and deeper as her orgasm rushed almost violently through her. He did not separate from her until her tremors calmed down somewhat. Carefully, he withdrew from her and drew her into his arms to give her a moment to recover.

 _Oh my god,_ she chanted in her mind repeatedly as she slowly came down from her high. Never could she have thought sex could be so incredible. She was still disoriented from her climax that she didn’t notice him lay down beside her until he began stroking her again.

“Hmmm,” she hummed in contentment, acknowledging him.

“I am not finished with you just yet,” he said gently as he reached for her again.


	9. Chapter 9

After some heated kissing and intimate touching, Vegeta encouraged her to straddle his hips and slowly guided her down onto his still hard shaft.

He groaned as her wet tightness drew him in deeply. He knew, no matter how long this affair lasted, that she would forever be his most memorable conquest. Sure she was inexperienced, but she took instruction well and did exactly as he said.

She let his large hands guide her as he moved her hips up and down the length of his cock. Her nether regions were slick and still sensitive from their last coupling, which had only been a few minutes ago, but she loved the way he filled her up.

Vegeta grunted as the rocking of her hips made his cock twitch and he began to feel the familiar pull in his center as his climax finally began to build. He placed his hands on both of her hips, squeezing and kneading them in his own excitement and in doing so, he encouraged her to rock her hips quicker.

Bulma hummed to herself as his length moved deeply through her. She was already feeling her second release fast approaching. She gasped as she felt him rubbing her clit in circular motions with his thumb. “Oh god,” she exhaled as she continued to ride him at the pace he’d set.

He suddenly gripped her hips with both hands, making her quit her movements. Gently he pushed her off of him before he reached completion.

“What are you…?” She asked in confusion; she had been mere seconds away from her own orgasm.

Vegeta wordlessly got out of bed to grab a scarf from the floor.

“What are you doing?” She asked in curiosity.

“Punishing you like I said I would,” he replied with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You trust me?” He asked, crawling back onto the bed next to her and holding up the scarf.

Bulma had no idea what he had in mind, but so far he hadn’t done anything to cause her any reason to not trust him. Hell her entire body had become a pulsing blaze of pleasure since they’d set foot in this room! She nodded at him in consent.

Vegeta smirked at her and quickly tied her wrists together above her head. Satisfied with his work, he encouraged her to wrap one of her legs around his hip, held her bound hands above her head and entered her slowly. She sighed, welcoming the intimate contact once again, though wished she could run her hands across his chest and abdomen as he looked down at her.

He began rocking his hips in a slow pace, wanting to take his time. He pulled out slowly, leaving just the head of his cock inside of her and then pushing back into her fast. He laced his fingers with hers and studied the contorted look of pleasure on her face, taking great satisfaction that he had been the only person to have ever pleasured her so thoroughly.

Before long, he once again felt his own orgasm coming and this time he would not hold it off. He reached down between them and rubbed her clit with one of his hands; his other hand still holding hers above her head. She was so close to release as well, he could _feel_ it and he wanted her to crash with him.

Bulma closed her eyes as she lay there riding the wave of pleasure as he did all the work. She moaned as she felt her insides beginning to tighten and coil up as he moved in and out of her, setting her up for another incredible release.

He squeezed her hand and moaned against the side of her neck as he finally lost himself inside her and she yelped as the pressure in her in belly turned into an explosion of pleasure. She was dizzy and seeing stars as she came hard with him, trembling beneath him as he continued to push into her, trying to prolong both their releases for as long as possible.

Bulma laid back on his bed afterwards, panting and still trembling in the aftershock of the incredible second climax she’d just had. Her thoughts a mess of pleasure and anxiety, but she couldn’t remember at that moment what it was she should be anxious over. She pushed it aside, not wanting anything to take away from the euphoric bliss she was feeling.

She looked to her left as she felt a warm hand gently caress her thigh. _Oh my_ , she thought to herself as she looked at him and felt her stomach churn pleasantly. _I’m going to hell_ , she told herself, yet the thought didn’t frighten her all that much. It had been worth it, she decided. Something about this man, she couldn’t figure out what it was, but he would be her undoing and she did not care.

The first time they’d met, she’d somehow known, deep in her gut that he would be trouble for her. She hadn’t been exactly sure how or what events would take place to cause her to stray and betray her husband like this, but she’d known immediately and instead of being terrified at the thought and wary of him, it had only excited her and she couldn’t stay away from him. 

She’d known from the heated way in which he’d looked at her the moment Yamcha had introduced them that first time that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. He’d looked at her as though he knew what she looked like under her dress with nothing on. She’d felt her cheeks flush deeply and her stomach flipped pleasantly as he took her hand in greeting and lightly brushed his lips on her knuckles. It was an otherwise innocent greeting and exchange, except for the intense, smoldering look in his eyes as he’d greeted her.

Never had any man had such an effect on her. It had been a very mutual physical attraction at first sight; the type of thing one only read about in novels and she wished right then that her mother had chosen to marry her off to someone more appropriate, like this friend of Yamcha’s rather than to Yamcha, she thought guiltily. Yamcha was kind and he was considerate, but he was also boring and did not want a wife, apparently.

“You’re going to be the end of me,” she said to him.

“And I take it that will be a problem?” he smirked at her as he took her into his arms.

“It will if my husband finds out,” she replied, snuggling in close to him; her anxiety already beginning to settle in deep in her bones over what she’d just done.

“He will not,” he sighed. “Unless you _want_ him to find out,”

“No,” she shook her head. “I don’t.”

“Why not?” He asked.

She shot him a look of alarm. “What do you mean _why not_? Are you insane?”

“No, but think about it, he’s not only repeatedly rejected you and your efforts to build a meaningful marriage, but it sounds to me like he indicated to you that there’s no chance of that changing so long as he sees you as he does,” he reasoned. “I think it would be good for him to discover that you found what you were looking for with someone else.”

“I don’t think it would be good for anyone,” she griped.

“Well, no,” he agreed. “It would not be good in the sense that you would be ruined and I would find myself in a position of it being difficult to find employment. I merely meant that it would serve him right if he did find out. Unfortunately, it would be you who would pay for it the most.”

“Right,” she nodded.  “I never did ask you what you do for a living. There hasn’t been a war in many years. So what are you employed with in the meantime?”

He was quiet a long moment. “Let us just say that I work on a contractual basis and am hired to take care of other people’s problems,”

Bulma frowned. What did that mean? “Like problems how?”

“I make problems disappear,” he said. “Permanently.”

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes, at his vague explanation. She still didn’t understand what that meant, but decided since he was being elusive, that maybe it was best she didn’t know. “And what’s the story about Lazuli and how you both came to be together?”

“My, aren’t you chatty post coitus,” he said jokingly.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Do not be,” he snorted. He had only been teasing her.

“I just don’t know a whole lot about you,” she said.

“There is much I do not know about you,” he countered.

“At this point, you know me better than I know you and you know me a whole lot better than my own husband does,” she said.

“That much is true,” he nodded.

“Why don’t we take turns telling each other things?” she suggested, getting excited. There were so many things about Vegeta she wanted to know, but didn’t.

“Could do,” he nodded. “Are you hungry?”

“A little,” she nodded. “I have a night gown downstairs in my hand bag,”

“I have a solution,” he said, getting out of bed and throwing on a loose night shirt that fell to his thighs. He rummaged around in his drawers and eventually tossed a white shirt with a v neck and no buttons at her. “Here, keep it. It will likely fit you better than the one you wear at home.”

Bulma smiled, appreciating the effort he was putting in in trying to make her comfortable and not dwell on the fact that what they were doing was so wrong. In truth, she had been half expecting him to toss her something of Lazuli’s to wear, which she would have worn, but it would have felt oh so even  _more_   _wrong_. She put the loose shirt on and followed him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Vegeta grabbed a tray and began loading it up with an assortment of prepared food before handing her two plates, two sets of utensils and the already opened bottle of wine. “Let’s go,” he said, indicating for her to follow him, which she did, back to his bedroom where he threw down a throw blanket in front of the fire place and proceeded to make a fire for them.

Bulma couldn’t help but smile at him at all the effort he was making to make this a wonderful evening. It was now getting dark and she was wondering if she was going to end up spending the night after all; she hoped so.

Fire lit, he sat down with her. “Help yourself,” he said, pointing at the tray of food he’d brought up. “Sorry it is not formal,”

“I don’t need formalities,” she said, nibbling on a slice of bread.

They visited casually as they ate. “I am going to visit my parents in a few days,” she said.

“I never did ask you where you were from,”

“A small town in Poland called Malbork County,” she replied. “It’s like a one week travel by carriage, but I can be there in a few hours by train. So Yamcha got me a train ticket.”

“I too have business in Poland not far from there,” he commented. “When are you going?”

“I leave in three days,”

“May I accompany you?” he asked.

She smiled. “I’d love nothing more, but are you sure that’s a wise idea? There’s no way I can bring you to meet my parents, they’d suspect something; my mother especially.”

“My business is outside the city where you are from,” he shrugged. “I will stay at a hotel and remain there until you go home. I will accompany you then as well; it is not safe for you to travel alone.”

Her stomach flipped at the formal way he said he’d go with her and his protective nature. “Sounds good to me,”

“Looks like you have an excuse to stay here,” he said to her, pointing at the bedroom window. Large snowflakes were falling from the sky at a rapid pace. “It is snowing quite heavily from the look of it and you’ve had far too much to drink,” he said, reaching for the wine bottle and pouring more into her glass as she glanced out the window.

“I hadn’t had too much to drink,” she smiled at him as she watched him top up her glass. “Until now, I guess,” she reasoned, taking a rather healthy sip of her wine.

"To bad decisions and your safety," he said as he held up his glass and they toasted.

They finished their meal and Vegeta brought up dessert, which they shared before they inevitably ended up in bed again.

* * *

Bulma woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee on the night table beside her. She smiled as she stretched and felt her muscles object somewhat; she was a tad stiff from the previous night, but it was confirmation to her that last night _had_ indeed happened. They had woken up a few times throughout the night to have each other. To say she’d over done it, would be accurate, but she never felt more confident, accepted or desired than she did right now and she was sad that it was morning. Her insecurities that she was awful in the bedroom had been forgotten; he’d had her several times last night. If she had been terrible, she was sure that would not have happened.

Vegeta walked into the room as she sat up. “I brought breakfast up for you,” he said, gesturing to a tray in the room where they’d shared dinner. “No, I did not make it, but I know you do not wish to be seen by the house staff,”

She smiled at him. “If you know they won’t let it get out, then I trust them.”

“It is fine,” he shrugged. “Come eat,”

Bulma found the white shirt he’d given her the previous night on the floor and put it on before coming to join him for breakfast.

“That _does_ look better on you than the other one,” he commented.

She giggled shyly at him. “Thank you,”

“Do you need to be home immediately?” he asked her as they ate.

“I don’t think so,” she shrugged. “I mean, Baba will probably have a nosebleed if I don’t return soon, but it’s not like I have things to do other than finish repairing your gun; which I can’t do until that part arrives.”

“Good,” he said simply. “I thought you might like to help me clean a few of my guns and then I thought we might go shooting out back. There is snow, but the weather is mild and ideal. I went out briefly and there is little to no wind.”

“I’d love to!” she answered immediately.

They finished breakfast quickly and went to the room where Vegeta kept his guns. He took one of them apart and showed her the procedure of how he cleaned them before giving her one to do. Bulma figured it out quickly and loved every moment of it. Together, they got through all of them in a few hours before deciding to go outside to shoot a few of them.

It was cool outside, but not unpleasant. The snow was crisp and clean and made the atmosphere refreshing.

Her stomach flipped pleasantly as he helped her along so she would not slip on the icy pavement of the sidewalk surrounding his home as they walked around to the back of the house. “How far do we need to go?” she asked as they then walked away from the house and onto the lawn towards a bunch of trees.

“Not far,” he answered. “I have a mock shooting range set up just beyond the treeline so as to make sure there is never anyone around.”

“Probably a good idea,” she agreed, taking his hand even though she was not at risk of slipping anymore.

He laced his fingers with hers in return and they silently made their way to the supposed shooting range.

“This is neat!” she exclaimed when they got there. The area wasn’t far into the treeline, but it was a large, cleared out area, surrounded by a three or four foot wooden fence with several targets at different distances placed all over the inside of the enclosure. There was a long hut the width of the field built too for shelter where one would shoot their guns.

“It is,” he agreed with a grin. “I come out here a lot,”

“On your own?” she asked.

“Mostly, yes,” he nodded. “However from time to time Yamcha comes out here. Sometimes Lazuli does to show off to whichever beau she’s trying to impress,”

“Like you are right now,” she teased.

He gave her a look. “If I did not know that you were interested in guns, I can assure you, I would definitely have _not_ brought you out here just to impress you. I believe I did that last night,”

“You!” she scoffed at him, knowing she was turning red.

He shot her a mischievous grin and beckoned for her to follow him. After wiping off some snow that had blown onto a table in the hut, he placed his gun bag down and opened it, taking out two guns. He showed her how to load his before giving her the smaller one to load herself, which she did with no issue.

“Alright,” he said, ready to begin. “First and foremost thing you need to learn is that your stance is very important. Your body is your foundation. If your foundation is not good at the base, then anything that happens up top will falter and you’ll never hit anything; especially when it comes to kickback and feeling disoriented from the sound of just firing a gun.  You need to find a stance that is practical, sturdy and still comfortable.”

He then pointed his gun at one of the targets and demonstrated how he would stand and she did her best to imitate him.

“You’re leaning too far back,” he corrected her. “Lean forward. If you are too far back to begin with, the kick back will be worse and you will not hit your target. You also need to widen your stance.” He helped her position herself properly and she couldn’t help but blush or rid herself of the butterflies fluttering in her stomach from him touching her, even though he was being completely serious and not flirting with her or trying to turn her on.

“Good,” he said. “Now you need to learn how to hold the gun.”

Bulma snorted and held it out, aiming at a target, assuming she was holding it correctly.

Vegeta clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head critically. “Pathetic,” he scoffed. “I should let you shoot it like that so you will understand why this is wrong and you will learn, but if I do, you will likely hurt yourself.”

“Fine, how do you hold your gun?” she asked sourly.

Firstly, he lightly swatted her hands and the gun fell to the ground easily.

“Hey! What if that had gone off and shot one of us?” she objected angrily.

“The safety is still on,” he sighed, picking it up and handing it back to her. “You need to have a firm grip on the handle so you don’t drop your gun or you don’t injure your wrist from the kickback. You want the web between your trigger finger and thumb to be as high as possible on the grip to contain the recoil of the slide moving back and forth.” He showed her with his own gun.

“You want to fill your second hand completely up with the other hand so you maximize grip. I like to double-check by making sure there’s a 45 degree angle between my left hand and the top of the handgun,” once again her showed her with his own gun how he would hold it. “Make sense?”

“It does,” she nodded and did her best to imitate him.

“Much better,” he commended her and took a shot at one of the targets, hitting it in where she’d assume it would be the head if it were a real person.

She winced at the sound of the shot. She’d heard guns fire before, but never had she been in such close proximity to it. “Wow, that’s loud!” she exclaimed. “Can I try?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded, gesturing towards the field. “Aim for the middle of the target, where it is larger,” he advised, pointing at one that was closer to them.

Bulma positioned her feet and held her gun the way he’d just shown her.

“Good,” he commended her. “Take your time, there is no hurry. Lean forward just a little,” he instructed her, placing a hand lightly on her upper back, encouraging her to lean just a little more forward.

Just as she was about to shoot, something whizzed by them and a gunshot was heard from nearby and a bullet hit the head of the target Bulma had been aiming at.

Bulma screamed, startled by the sudden noise and shot her gun, though missed her target entirely.

Vegeta immediately swept an arm out in Bulma’s direction, shoving her behind him as he simultaneously whirled around behind them where the shot had come from and pointed his gun at the offender.

“Sorry,” Lazuli giggled. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Are you _fucking_ insane?!” Vegeta snarled at her, not lowering his gun.

“Oh come on,” she snorted. “Where’s your sense of adventure? I wouldn’t have actually hit you guys, you know that,”

Bulma swallowed hard as she fought back tears from the sudden fright and placed a hand on her chest as though that would keep it from bursting from her rib cage. She was still holding the gun, but her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Vegeta lowered his gun and looked behind him at her trembling form and took the gun from her and placed it on the table. “That was not funny,” he growled.

“Oh lighten up,” Lazuli rolled her eyes, stepping into the hut with them. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said to Bulma, though it didn’t seem like she was sorry. She clearly was quite amused with herself.

“Its fine,” Bulma said, though didn’t know what else to say. Had that been a warning from the other woman?

“It’s almost lunch time and Raditz said you were putzing around out here with a guest and I was curious,” she shrugged. “I thought I was being _funny!”_

“Well it wasn’t,” Vegeta snapped at her. “You of all people should know that you don’t fuck around when it comes to guns.”

“Who said I was fucking around?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “I am sorry, Bulma. Would you like to try again? This time without interruption or interference, I promise.”

“No, It’s alright,” she shook her head. She felt incredibly uncomfortable and just wanted to go home. “I should be getting back home anyway, I didn’t realize how late it was. Baba will be worried.”

“Suit yourself,” Lazuli shrugged, walking into the hut and standing next to them and glancing at the targets. “Though I never leave without emptying my gun,” she said and proceeded to shoot several rounds, one at each target, in the head, perfect each time.

“Now you are just showing off,” Vegeta growled, emptying both guns and packing up his bag.

“As were you, my dear,” she chortled. “Bulma, please feel welcome at any time to come by. I can teach you to shoot better than _he_ can. I’d have asked you sooner, but I wasn’t aware of your interest.”

“Thank you,” Bulma nodded, just wanting to leave. “Maybe some other time.”

“Sure thing!” the other woman said and began loading her gun again. Apparently it was her intention to stay there a while longer.

They made their way out of the treeline before Vegeta finally spoke to her. “I apologize for her behaviour. I do not know what that was about. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she nodded. “I should be getting home anyway. I shouldn’t even _be_ here!” she felt herself beginning to feel emotional. Now that they were away from the shooting range, she wished she’d stayed and fired a few rounds even though she was feeling uncomfortable with Lazuli’s presence. She should have stuck up for herself instead of running away like a coward. “I thought you said she’s fine with all of this,”

“She is,” he assured her. “However that does not mean she won’t have fun giving you a hard time. Today, however was completely out of line.”

“Right,” she nodded, unsure how to feel.

“Would you like some lunch?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” she shook her head. “I really should be going home.”

“Alright,” he said, not wanting to sound disappointed that she was leaving. He’d enjoyed their time together. “I will come with you and so will Raditz. We will help you set up your new room and then I will leave you be,”

“Oh, I forgot all about that,” she said. “You can leave it, it can be done another day.”

“So you can sleep on the floor again in that pitiful room?” he scoffed. “I think not,”

“Thank you,” she smiled at him.

Someone got Bulma’s horse and carriage ready to go and Vegeta accompanied her in her carriage while Raditz followed in a second carriage back to Yamcha’s place.

They barely spoke on the ride back. Vegeta was beyond enraged with Lazuli for her petulant behaviour; never had she done something like this. She’d walked in on him doing far worse things with a woman and she never cared before, nor had she made the point of embarrassing his conquest or threatening any of them. Why now?

Bulma was already questioning everything she had done in the last twenty four hours. What had she been thinking? Had Vegeta lied to her when he’d told her that Lazuli was not only aware of this _thing_ between them but was alright with it as well? Would she tell someone or worse yet, would she tell Yamcha? She felt sick to her stomach now at the thought that she’d allowed this to happen.

Arrival to Yamcha’s could not have come sooner and Bulma awkwardly exited the carriage.

“You don’t have to help set things up,” she said to him.

“I know,” he shrugged. “However I said that I would and so I will. Then I will leave you be,”

Bulma nodded and headed inside.

“Where have you been?” Baba exclaimed. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I’m sorry, I…”

“The women were beyond hungover this morning,” Vegeta interjected. “Lazuli is still not well this morning, hence why she did not accompany us,”

Baba glared at them, but waved them in. “You’re still going to help fix this mess, are you?”

“Absolutely,” Vegeta nodded, motioning for Raditz to come with him.

“Baba, it’s been _years_ since I saw you last!” Raditz greeted her. “You look even younger than I remember!”

“Why thank you,” she smiled at him. Despite her surly demeanour, even she was not immune to his charms. “I also thank you for helping us,”

“Don’t mention it,” he waved his hand. “A delicate flower like yourself shouldn’t be doing manual labor.”

“Now I know you’re full of it!” she joked.

“I’ve never told a lie in my life,” he winked and followed Vegeta and Bulma down to the other rooms.

It took them a little over an hour to finish moving everything to where it needed to be. Not knowing what to do with herself and feeling like she needed to keep herself busy, Bulma began making her bed while the men finished moving everything around.

“I will do that,” Baba objected.

“Its fine,” Bulma shooed her away. “I just need to go to back to bed when they leave, now I can do that.”

“You don’t want lunch?” she asked. “It’s prepared,”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“I’m up for lunch!” Raditz chimed in from the doorway. “That is if it’s made.”

“Lunch is ready,” Baba confirmed. “Would you like to stay for lunch in lieu of payment for helping us out?”

“Sounds good to me!” Raditz confirmed, looking at Vegeta who nodded.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Baba asked Bulma.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I hope you both won’t find it terribly rude if I left Baba to entertain you, would you? I’m terribly tired and just need to lie down,”

“Not at all,” Raditz said, exiting the room.

Vegeta nodded at her, but did not say anything.

“I will see to them,” Baba said. “You get some rest if that is what you wish, there will be left overs downstairs. Vegeta, you will join us?”

“I will,” he nodded. “I have a few more things to finish in Yamcha’s room that I will do and then I will join you both,”

“Alright,” she said, leaving the room. “But hurry, you know how Raditz eats,”

“I won’t be long,” he said, waiting for the older woman to disappear before quietly and carefully closing and locking Bulma’s door. “Are you certain you are alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just worried,”

“Do not be,” he said, reaching for her. “She was just being a bitch. Nothing will come of it,”

“If you say so,” she said, leaning into him.

Vegeta held her a moment before sweeping a hand beneath her chin and making her look at him. “Do not worry about it,” he said and kissed her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, even though her mind was telling her not to. This had gone far enough and already there were problems developing. What was the point in getting in deeper?

“Would you like to christen your new accommodations?” he asked mischievously.

“Now I _know_ you’re insane,” she replied. “Baba is waiting for you to get lunch. If you’re gone for much longer, she will suspect something.”

He gave her a grunt of disapproval, but let her go. “Next time I am here, we will,”

She smiled at him, both relieved but partially dreading that he was talking about a _next time._ “That could be a while,” she replied. “Baba and Roshi _live_ here. I cannot simply give them the day or an evening off and tell them to go away like you apparently can,”

“You’re smart,” he shrugged. “I am sure you can think of something, if you are up for a next time. By the way, where is that train ticket of yours?”

“It’s on the dresser over there,” she pointed.

He went to look at it. “He got you First Class for a trip that will only be several hours long?” he snorted as he looked at it.

“He did,” she nodded. “I’m not going to complain.”

“Nor will I,” he said. “Is it still alright if I accompany you?”

Bulma thought about it a moment. She wasn’t opposed to it, just very afraid of being discovered. The incident with Lazuli had really shaken her up this morning and she was second guessing everything. However, she did not want to miss the opportunity to spend time with Vegeta again; she was glad that he seemed to want to still he her instead of just discarding her after getting what he’d wanted. “I’m alright with it, if you are,”

“I will buy a ticket for the same train,” he nodded. “And I will see you in two days,”

“Two days,” she confirmed with a smile, looking at him.

“Rest up,” he said quietly, approaching her again.

Bulma blushed. “I had a really good time with you,”

“You don’t say,” he mocked.

“I didn’t just mean _that_ ,” she whispered, looking away from him in embarrassment. “ _That_ was amazing, but so was the rest of it. Aside from what happened with Lazuli, I have never had more fun with anyone than I have with you. Thank you,”

Vegeta took her hand and kissed the back of it tenderly. “You yourself were amazing and I enjoyed my time with you as well and I look forward to seeing you again,”

“Can we try shooting again sometime?” she asked.

“Certainly,” he nodded. “Get some rest and I will see you in two days,”

“I will,” she said and gave him a quick hug before he left.

Feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, she removed her clothes and changed back into the shirt Vegeta had given her. When she finally crawled into bed and was settled in comfortably, she smiled; the shirt still smelled like _him._


	10. Chapter 10

Two days had passed and Bulma was ready to go and visit her parents and she was looking forward to it. She desperately needed a change of scenery, even if it meant in a few days’ time she would want to be as far away from her mother as possible; she would cross that bridge when she got there. She was curious to know whether or not Vegeta would still choose to come with her; she kind of hoped so, despite her guilt and worries about what had happened with Lazuli the next morning. She knew she was walking on _very_ thin ice by choosing to continue on this path, but a part of her really didn’t care. That night with Vegeta was the first time she’d felt alive since coming here; she didn’t want to lose that just yet. With regards to Lazuli, she decided that if Vegeta was not worried about her, then she wouldn’t be.

By late morning they had both boarded the train as scheduled; though she hadn’t seen Vegeta until the train had actually departed the station. Their private rooms were adjacent of one another; something she suspected was by design by Vegeta’s doing rather than by coincidence.

The rooms were small, but adequate. As she was settling herself in, she heard a knock on the door.

Bulma went to answer it and in stepped Vegeta. His mouth went straight for hers as he closed and locked the door behind them; she instantly wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back hungrily. The last forty eight hours spent apart had been torturous! All she could think about was being with him again.

She didn’t object as he spun her around and pinned her against the door of the room. Instead, she began to fumble with the buttons if his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against hers.

Vegeta smirked against her mouth at her urgency and assisted her in undoing his shirt, his lips not leaving hers.

His shirt gone, he broke his mouth from hers and rested his forehead against hers, looking at her intently; he had missed her as well. His hands were on her hips and they slowly began to travel up her sides where they both finally settled on her breasts, even though she was still fully clothed. He rubbed his hands up and down a few times over them, reveling in his own method of torture. 

“Help me,” she sighed, placing her hands on either side of his face. “Help me get this off,”

“That will take too long,” he grunted, reaching for the skirt of her dress and bringing it up around her waist.  Her lower half exposed, he slid a hand down her front and exhaled loudly in surprise at how wet she was already for him; she was soaked. “You missed me,” he teased, though he was secretly thrilled. A part of him was convinced that she would not want to resume this _thing_ they were participating in after the rude interruption by Lazuli. While he’d have understood and respected it, he was glad she still wanted him.

“Just a little,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant about it. In truth the only thing she could think about was having him again. After only one night together, she was addicted. He was her drug and she could think about nothing else but getting her next fix no matter the cost.

He quickly pulled down her bloomers just low enough to expose her, reached down and undid his pants and held his breath as he urgently slid into her.  The way her features contorted whenever he first entered her was fascinating to him. The way her brows came together and her mouth fell open in a perfect exclamation of _oh_ followed by either the sweetest sound of a soft moan or a sigh of contentment; making her look and sound like she was either surprised or was relieved… he loved it.

He rocked into her slowly, wanting to enjoy the moment now that he was buried inside of her and the initial urgency of having her had subsided.

Bulma bit her lower lip as she basked in his warm presence all around her and inside of her as he basically nailed her to the door. “Fuck,” she gasped as wave after wave of pleasure washed through her with every stroke of his cock moving in and out of her in a perfect rhythm.

“Yes, we are,” he replied with a devious smirk.

The subtle sway of the train in motion only added to the intensity of his pushing into her and all she could think of was this was truly the best train ride she’d ever been on and probably would ever be on as she clung to him for dear life.

She moaned into his mouth as they came together and immediately collapsed on the floor together in a trembling mess of limbs and damp clothes.

Bulma began to giggle from exhilaration once she’d caught her breath and her mind had had a chance to catch up with what they’d done. “I can’t believe we just _did_ that!”

“Give me half an hour and we can do it again if you wish,” he chuckled.

“I want to be able to _actually_ walk normal when I see my parents,” she said jokingly.

“I want to meet your mother,” he said casually, sitting against the closed door and wrapping his arms around her, bringing her with him.

“Why?” She snorted, settling against him. “So you can seduce her too and you can brag about having _both_ mother and daughter in one weekend?”

“Of course not!” He scoffed, truly offended that she’d think such a thing, then realized that it wouldn’t be the first time he’d seduced and had _both_ a mother and daughter. However that thought had not even entered his mind when he’d mentioned his desire to meet her mother. “I am merely _curious_ to meet the woman your husband is still obsessing over and I would like to see what kind of woman sells her daughter out the way she has done to you.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well regardless, I don’t think that’s a very good idea,”

“Why not?”

“Because she’ll take one look at you and she’ll know what’s going on here.”

“She will not,”

“Yes, she will!”

“And how would she know?” He asked in amusement.

“I don’t know, but I’m telling you, she’s not stupid and she’ll figure it out.”

“Well it is not like I will be fondling you up in front of her,”

“She’ll know,”

“As you wish,” he sighed, though he really was curious about her parents.

“What will you be doing?” she asked. “You said you had business in Poland,”

“A job,”

“What _kind_ of job?” she asked.

Vegeta sighed. “I have been hired to make a problem disappear,”

“Right,” she nodded. “You said that’s what you do, but that’s really vague. So you make problems disappear, so you’re like a wizard then?”

“Do not be silly,” he sighed.

“I’m not,” she insisted. “You’re the one who won’t give me any details. Can you make Yamcha _disappear_? I mean he’s my problem… Oh,”

“Right,” he nodded as watched the realization spread across her face. “I do not think that would be a good idea,”

“No,” she agreed, feeling suddenly awkward in his arms. “So you… kill people on the side for money?”

“Not in so many words, but you could put it that way,” he shrugged. “I prefer to think of it as helping those with problems.”

“But you’re _killing_ innocent people,”

“Hmmn, most are not that innocent,” he snorted. “I get rid of black mailers, and other types of low life.”

“But who decides they’re low life’s?” she asked, turning so she could look at him. “The people who hire you? I’d be willing to bet they aren’t much better themselves.”

He shrugged. “It is not my business to do a background check to determine whether they are or aren’t,” he said. “If they were so innocent, they would not have found themselves in such a situation that someone felt my services were required. I am highly respected, never miss my mark and make good money doing what I do,”

Bulma shook her head at him, unable to come to terms with the fact that the man she was falling in love with was essentially a murderer if the price was right. It was unfathomable to her!

“You cannot be serious,” he deadpanned. “You are _that_ bothered by this?”

“Uhmm, a bit, yea,” she replied, standing up. She needed to fix herself up so she wasn’t a complete disheveled mess when they reached their destination. “That’s not okay!”

He watched her open her suitcase and began rifling through it. “I am sorry,” he said as he watched her and realized how truly agitated she was by this discovery.

“Sorry you told me, or sorry you do this for a living?”

“Both?” he shrugged, though he was not all that sorry that he killed people for money. It thrilled him. He loved researching them and following them for a few days, or even weeks in some cases, learning their schedules and deciding the best way to end their lives. Though most of the time, it was done by gunshot. Less chance of getting caught and he prided himself on keeping his marksmanship skills sharp.

“Then why can’t you find something else to do?” she asked.

“I do not know,” he shrugged. “I never thought to. I made a reputation for myself as an excellent marksman in the military; your husband can attest to that. There is no war, hasn’t been for a long time and from the look of it, will not be another for a long time.”

Bulma looked at him. It was so hard to believe that this man who was so gentle and who could make her body feel things she’d never thought possible was also a cold blooded killer in his spare time! “Does your wife know?”

“Does she know,” he repeated back to her with a dark chuckle. “Of course she knows. She has even accompanied me and participated at times. She herself has been known to take on the odd job here and there, though it is more out of boredom than anything else.”

“Unbelievable,” Bulma sighed. “You two…”

“You two what?” he challenged. “At least we _understand_ one another. Look at the mess your life is with your husband.”

Bulma nodded and wiped away the tears she felt wanting to fall.

Vegeta groaned and stood up. He had not meant to sound so harsh or make her cry. “I am sorry, all I meant was neither of us is in an _ideal_ situation, but at least I have my independence.”

“Right,” she nodded, though turned from him to resume going through her things, not even remembering what it was she had been looking for now.

He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “It is not so bad,” he said. “It is just a job, not personal.”

“And that’s why you’re coming with me?” she asked. “You have a _job_ nearby?”

“I do,” he nodded. “Someone hired me to get rid of someone who is going to be a key witness in an important case,”

“So now you’re not only killing someone, you’re obstructing justice?” she asked, feeling even more disgusted.

“I suppose,” he said. “It is not my business to know who is right or who is wrong. If the person who I am supposed to make disappear had hired me instead to get rid of the other individual, I would be taking that person out.”

“Unbelievable,” she said again, truly not sure what to think anymore. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to judge. I just thought I knew who you were… Apparently I know nothing. You don’t come off as a cold blooded murderer. Aloof and reserved, yes, but not someone who would just kill people.”

“I am a soldier and a mercenary and a sell sword, or hired gun I suppose,” he answered. “I am sorry if that disappoints you,”

“I’m not disappointed,” she said firmly, but paused a moment. “Alright, I guess I am, just a little. However your life is your life. It is not my business to judge you. I suppose the less I know about that, the better.”

“As you wish,” he replied. “I suppose my line of work is somewhat questionable.”

“Just a little,” she said, wrinkling her nose and holding up her hand and showing a small measurement with her thumb and pointer finger.

For right now, she decided she did not want to think about it.

* * *

They arrived at the train station on schedule. Vegeta wrote down where he would be staying, Bulma did not disclose her parent’s address, but confirmed the date and time she was scheduled to go back home; she would be staying two weeks with her parents.

“You don’t have to accompany me home,” she told him. “It seems silly to stick around if you do not need to.”

“I will wait for you,” he confirmed.

Bulma looked at him longingly a moment before leaning in and kissing him one last time before leaving him. “Be careful doing whatever it is you’re doing,” she said. “I’ll be very upset if you aren’t here because something happened.”

“Such little faith,” he snorted, though he was joking. “I will be fine,”

They parted ways, Vegeta going back to his private room so that Bulma could exit on her own and no one who may know her or be there to meet her would see him.

She was greeted by her mother and father and their carriage driver. 

“You are simply _glowing!”_ Bulma’s mother exclaimed as she greeted her. “Married life does agree with you after all!”

She held back a snort. “Things of late have been pretty good,” she admitted and it wasn’t a lie. Vegeta had breathed life into her again; though she was not sure how long that would last if she couldn’t accept the fact of now knowing what he did for a living.  

“Does she not look stunning, dear?” her mother deferred to her father.

“She looks as lovely as always,” he smiled.

“Considering your letter asking to come stay seemed so gloomy, I’m surprised to see you looking so happy and cheerful,” her mother said once they had entered the carriage and were on their way, not wasting any time with her nosy questions. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“What? No, mom!” She exclaimed. Though the thought of getting pregnant by Vegeta hadn’t occurred to her until then and her stomach dropped at the notion.

“Are you certain, dear?” Her mother went on, carefully analyzing every inch of her. “You look absolutely radiant and are obviously having mood swings,”

“I’m sure, mother,” she replied and caught herself from mentioning that one had to actually participate in intercourse with their spouse if they were to become pregnant. She had written her mother, requesting to come for a visit with every intention of telling her everything, but now that she and Vegeta had started messing around, she found she didn’t care to for some reason. It didn’t matter. What she couldn’t get from Yamcha, she was getting from Vegeta in spades.

While she was disturbed and did not approve of what he did on the side for a living, at least Vegeta listened to her and didn’t treat her like a child. It wasn’t just the sex that had her drawn to him; although that was addictive and she craved it.

“Yamcha is too busy and away far too often for far too long for a pregnancy to occur,” she settled on saying instead.

“All it takes is once,” her mother shrugged.

“I guess,” Bulma agreed and felt her stomach turn to a knot at the thought that she and Vegeta had been intimate several times and it could be likely that she could be pregnant, though she didn’t feel any different. She just hoped that she had gotten lucky and nothing like that would happen. “Can we at least wait until we are home to have such a personal conversation?”

“Oh do not be such a spoil sport,” her mother snorted. “I am not going to lie, I was hoping the purpose of your visit would be to announce something wonderful like a pregnancy! It is nearly Christmas time, a summer baby would be splendid, don’t you think?”

Bulma refrained from rolling her eyes and chose to look out the window of the carriage instead. “Sorry to disappoint you, mother, but the purpose of my visit was to visit you two and get a change of scenery instead of remaining cooped up in that boring, old, huge house all by myself while my husband travels around all on his own.”

“Bulma,” her mother scolded her. “Do not be ungrateful and do not speak of Yamcha in such a way! He works very hard,”

“Right,” she snorted, not refraining from rolling her eyes this time. “It’s such hard work going to parties and balls, drinking and eating to excess and rubbing shoulders with boring, old, snobs,”

“Bulma!” her mother snapped at her in shock. “What has gotten into you?” She glared at her husband who was refraining poorly at chuckling at his daughter. “Do _not_ encourage her!”

“Oh, nothing,” Bulma sighed. “Except that I may as well _not_ be married for as often as I actually get to _see_ my husband.”

“You are being very unfair,” her mother said, shaking her head. “From what I’ve heard, Yamcha is doing _extremely_ well and is working very hard to build a solid future for you both. He would surely be crushed if he heard you talking in such a way.”

“From what you’ve _heard_?” Bulma asked, narrowing her eyes at her. “And what have you _heard_ and from _who_?”

“Yamcha, of course,” she shrugged.

“He writes you?” Bulma asked quietly, looking at her hands as she began picking at her gloves in agitation.

“Of course he does!” her mother confirmed as though her question were stupid. “He’s very excited about his progress and he misses you very much while he’s away.”

“Right,” she sighed heavily, trying to not become emotional. “He misses me _so_ much he can write to my _mother_ and not to _me,”_

“Oh, don’t be that way,” her mother snorted. “We’re old friends,”

“What other way can I be?” she cried. “I live constantly in _your_ shadow, you know! Nothing I do is good enough because he still cares about _you!”_ She blew up at her, even though she’d decided she wouldn’t bother telling her mother what a sham her marriage was. Maybe she needed to know and maybe, just _maybe_ she would take her side for once. If she had such an influence on Yamcha, maybe her own mother was the only person who could set things in motion to make things alright. It was twisted and it was a long shot, but it might be worth it.

“Do not be ridiculous,” her mother scoffed, waving her hand in dismissal. “You’re just tired from the long train ride.”

“Yes, that must be it,” Bulma said bitterly in disappointment, watching the scenery as the carriage made its way to her parent’s home. Apparently her mother didn’t even want to hear her side; she should have known better that in her mother’s eyes, Yamcha could do no wrong. She already wanted to turn around and go back home or look up where Vegeta was staying and remain there for the full two weeks.

The rest of the carriage ride passed in awkward silence; Bulma’s mother tried a few times to strike up a pleasant conversation, but Bulma only replied with short, vague replies.

When they finally arrived at their home, Bulma decided to take a nap. It took her a long while to fall asleep, but she finally did. She slept for about an hour or two before getting up for dinner.

“Are you in a better mood?” her mother asked curtly, watching her daughter carefully.

“I might be, depending on where the conversation leads over dinner,” she answered.

“I do not understand where all this animosity is coming from!” her mother exclaimed. “I have done nothing but look out for you and set you up for success-”

“Success?” Bulma spat. Apparently, her mother wanted to pick up where their conversation in the carriage had left off. “How have you set me up for success? Okay, you married me off to a guy with a _ton_ of money, but you also married me off to a guy who is never home, has no interest in having a wife and a man who is clearly not over you. You married me off to a guy who sees me as not only nothing more than a child, but as the child he should have had with _you!_ ”

“Now that has to be the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard,” her mother shook her head in disgust. “Is that why you refuse to share a room with him? Because you have this silly notion in your head?”

Bulma’s mouth dropped. Not only was Yamcha in contact with her mother and not her, but he was disclosing details of their private life to her as well? “I can’t do this,” she said, feeling deeply betrayed by both parties. She picked up her plate, reached across the table to serve herself, grabbed the open bottle of wine and exited the dining room without further word to her mother. She assumed her father was still in his workshop; it wasn’t uncommon for him to be late for dinner when he was absorbed in one of his projects. Not unlike herself, she thought bitterly. Was that why? Because he was that unhappy with her mother? She snorted to herself; she wouldn’t blame him!

She put on a pair of boots and trudged in the snow to her father’s workshop with her plate of food in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other and no jacket, she realized when she was half way there.

Knocking once, as she usually did, she let herself in and of course, there he was.

“What are you working on?” she asked.

“Nothing too exciting,” he said. “I am sorry, am I late for dinner?”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged, pulling up a chair and setting her plate down on a free spot on his work table.

“Your mother agitate you _again_ already?” he chuckled.

“You could say that,” she answered. “Let’s just say, I am beginning to understand why you spend so much time in here, on your own. I do the same,”

“Do you, now?” he asked gently, going back to whatever it was that he was doing.

“I do,” she answered. “I actually have a really exciting project at the moment,”

“Really? And what’s that?” he asked, glad that his daughter seemed willing to visit with him and less agitated already.

“One of Yamcha’s friends gave me an old gun of his to repair,” she told him. “I don’t know much about guns, but it’s been a really fun project. I figured out what was wrong with it and ordered the parts from the local gunsmith shop. I should be able to make it good as new, hopefully,”

“Guns?” he repeated, his eyebrows raised, looking up at her in concern over his thick glasses. “Whatever would possess you to want to work on guns of all things?”

“Boredom,” she shrugged. “I’m having fun with it anyway,”

“Well that’s good to hear,” he replied. “Just be careful,”

“I will,” she nodded. “I’m always careful,”

He watched her quietly as she ate. “Are you alright?”

Bulma shrugged. “I’m fine,” she answered. “I just never expected it to be this… _hard_ is all,”

“It will get easier,” he said, trying to be comforting, but not knowing what to say to help make things better. “He is kind to you though?”

“Oh of course he is,” she said. “We get along alright, that’s not the problem. The problem is he is never home, when he is and we do go out, he leaves me behind and goes to talk politics. He doesn’t even _try_ to include me in anything so it’s not like I can even attempt to do better. There’s more, but I’m sure you don’t want to get into our _personal_ life or lack there of,”

“I see,” he said.

“He’s not over mother, you know,” she told him despite knowing that may be a bad idea opening that can of worms, however she had a feeling her father already knew that and would not be surprised.

“Oh, I know, dear,” he said calmly. “I suspect your mother never got over him completely either. Not to say she’s disloyal, she’s never strayed. But I know a part of her heart lays with him as it always has and likely always will.”

“And you’re alright with that?” She asked.

“What other choice do I have?” He shrugged. “I have done everything to dote on your mother, she will not let me in close enough to truly spoil her. That’s what I have you and your sister for; or _had_ before you were married off and sent to live far away.”

“I’m sorry, dad,” she said.

“Oh what do you have to be sorry about?” He asked in a good natured tone. “You had little choice in the matter. I was hoping that with you married off to _him_ it might make your mother happy and content with knowing that he was alright. That was always her big thing, she felt bad that her parents married her off to me and was always worried he would not be okay; bless her heart. Allowing him to take you, was her way of amending that and I did not agree, but you know how your mother is. Apparently nothing has changed and I have a miserable daughter instead.”

“I’m not miserable, dad,” she said.

“And I always know when you are lying,”

“I’m not lying,” she sighed, though she was lying. She knew if Vegeta hadn’t become such a large part of her life, she would be beside herself. She knew that way of thinking was extremely dangerous, as there was no way they would be together long term, but for the moment it was an escape and a distraction from thinking about everything that was wrong. “I just… No matter how many things and conveniences and luxuries surround me that I know I should feel grateful for, and I should be content, I just cannot get rid of the constant feeling of loneliness. I’m just frustrated. I feel like nothing I do is good enough because everything I do, he compares to _her_. I can’t compete with that.”

“Why sure you can,” he insisted. “Your mother may be an amazing and dynamic woman, but you have many good qualities of your own that I am certain he would find endearing.”

“He might if he would give me a chance and stop comparing me to her,” she said, getting annoyed that while her father was sympathetic, he still truly did not understand. “I can’t shine if he won’t let me or if he can’t see me as an individual or if he’s never around.”

“I see,” he nodded. “Well, hopefully this is just a case of just needing to get used to one another, though I do recognize that the transition would be much smoother on you both if he wasn’t so focused on his political stuff.” 

“Well, that would help, but I can’t see that changing anytime soon,” she said and she meant it.

Bulma finished her dinner and kept her father company as he worked on a locomotive project.

The next afternoon, two of her childhood friends came to visit at her parents place. One was the same age as her, the other a year younger than herself but the three were good friends, even if Bulma had always held them at arms length somewhat.

“So?” Asked Hilda, the girl who was her age. “You _must_ tell us what it’s like?”

“Oh, Hilda,” Bulma rolled her eyes at her friend. “I’ll do no such thing.”

“But you’re the first of us to get married!” Her other, younger friend Inga pressed. “We have to know! Is it as amazing as the romance novels say? I have an older sister who says it’s terrible! It crushed me to hear that! It cannot be!”

Bulma pursed her lips and looked at the both of them, unsure what to say. Until she had been intimate with Vegeta, she hadn’t been all that fussed about her experience with Yamcha; she’d only wanted that with Yamcha because he was her husband and why not? Bulma was a romantic at heart, now she had a husband, what else was she supposed to think or expect? “A _lady_ never kisses and tells…” she said. “But, no, it’s not terrible… Or rather, it doesn’t have to be.”

“Yes!” Inga clapped. “I _knew_ it couldn’t be! I mean, Lord Yamcha is so handsome, I’m sure he’s wonderful!”

Bulma gave her a fleeting look. “Well, it takes some time, the first time isn’t good. I mean it is for them, but not so much for us,” she paused and wondered if that was true. If Vegeta had been her first, would it have been as unpleasant? She thought not. She supposed there would have still been the inevitable initial discomfort, but Vegeta seemed to like to take his time. Her first time with Yamcha had been awkward and uncomfortable and she supposed the only reason it had happened was because they had to legally consummate their marriage. He’d been considerate and respectful, but she hadn’t enjoyed herself all that much, nor had she any of the other times they had been intimate. With Vegeta, however, it was different. It had been amazing every time. “But after that, if your man takes their time, it can be wonderful, mind blowing even.”

Her two friends sighed in awe and looked at her with jealousy.

“I hope I am married one day to someone as handsome and wonderful as Yamcha,” Hilda said in a dreamy tone.

At the bottom of her heart, Bulma wished for anything but that for her romantic friend. She hoped she found someone who wanted her as much as she wanted them.

Thankfully their conversation moved away from Bulma’s bedroom and on to other things like local gossip. She hadn’t given her two girlfriends much thought since she’d left and never thought she’d miss them, but she realized now, more than ever that she did.

Sure they’d always been silly and that was why she hadn’t spent more time with them before; she’d much rather be working in the workshop with her father than gossiping and drinking tea, but the familiar carefree silliness that accompanied her now, distracting her from her life and her mother’s prodding, made her realize even more how lonely she truly was married to Yamcha.

“You girls should come and visit me,” she told them. “Yamcha is away a lot for long periods of time. It gets lonely up there all on my own.”

“We could both meet a man!” Hilda said excitedly. “Then we could move and be near you and visit every day!”

“We could go to parties too!” Inga said.

“Well, I don’t know that there’s much there for men for either of you,” Bulma replied honestly. “Most are married or are Yamcha’s age or older,”

“Age means nothing, so long as my husband is handsome and has _lots_ of money!”

“That’s no guarantee,” Bulma sighed at how stupidly naïve her friend was, though she hadn’t been all that much different at one point. While she had objected to marrying Yamcha because of his age and the fact that she barely knew him, she’d hoped that the fact that he had lots of money would replace the lack of personal connection she wanted. It hadn’t. “Money is nice, but if you have no emotional connection to the other person, you can feel even lonelier than if you are alone.”

“Like you know!” Her friend laughed. “Ohh, Bulma has been married for six months and is an expert on _everything_. What do you have to be lonely for?”

“My husband is never home, for one,” she snipped back. “Sure he’s handsome and a gentleman and pleasant to be around… when he _is_ around. The rest of my time, I’m alone.”

“But from the sound of it, he more than makes up for it when he _is_ home.” Hilda laughed, winking and nudging Bulma. Both girls laughed.

Bulma shrugged. There was no point in getting into it and she changed her mind on missing them. Here she was, visiting with her two best friends and still feeling lonely. No one understood or seemed to _want_ to understand. All they saw was _perfect, rich, handsome Yamcha._ What did she have to be miserable about? _Nothing_ apparently.

Bulma spent the rest of her visit at her parent’s place sleeping in, helping her father in the lab and avoiding her mother as much as possible. She was pushing for Bulma to make sure she got pregnant the next time Yamcha was at home and she was beyond annoyed.

Finally, one afternoon, she decided she needed to go for a ride to clear her head and possibly go into town where Vegeta had said he was staying. When she got to the stable, she was shocked and angered to learn that her reliable dappled grey mare had been sold after she’d moved. Her parents hadn’t even given her the option of transferring her to her new home!

So she saddled up her father’s old bay gelding and took him for a long ride along the countryside. She made her way into the city and to the hotel Vegeta was staying at, hoping to see him, but apparently he was out.

She left him a message letting him know that she had come to visit him, that she missed him and that she could not wait to see him when it was time to leave.

Feeling alone and somewhat dejected, she took the long, scenic route back to her parent’s home and wished she had her own horse. How much more simpler and free would she feel if she could leave for a few hours? She could meet up with Vegeta any time she wanted without having to bother Roshi to tack up the horse at home for carriage.

The rest of her stay was spent with small talk with her mother, avoiding anything to do with Yamcha; she did not want to hear whatever _motherly advice_ her mother had for her with regards to her marriage and it was not long before she decided she missed the large, boring home.  She spent most of her time helping her father in his workshop, which she knew she would miss more than anything.

The morning of her departure had been rushed. Bulma had slept in late, much to her mother’s annoyance and so breakfast had been rushed before they headed to the train station.

When they got there, she noticed Vegeta standing outside one of the first class train cars waiting for her. Her heart beat a little faster and her stomach did that usual pleasant flip of excitement when she saw him. She’d almost been expecting him to not be there.

When they approached, she decided rather than to ignore him, it would be alright to introduce him to her parents.

“Well what a surprise seeing you here?” she said to him, hoping he would follow her lead, though it wasn’t an outright lie, she was surprised to see him. “Mother, father, this is Vegeta, a close friend of Yamcha’s. They were in the war together many years ago, grew close and have remained good friends over the years.”

Bulma’s mother immediately scrutinized him thoroughly in a way that made Bulma very nervous. “I don’t recall him ever mentioning _you,_ ” she said.

“I’m sorry, and you are?” Vegeta asked, taking an immediate dislike to her. Of course, she was a very attractive older woman who you could tell that she had to have been strikingly gorgeous in her youth, much like her daughter was; however he could not stand women who assumed every man who looked at them wanted them. If she hadn’t been Bulma’s mother, he’d have made a point of seducing, bedding and dumping such a woman just to deflate her over important ego. He’d done it before, so it was not beneath his character. However, sometimes it was fun to blow these types off completely and act disinterested. That usually annoyed them even more than dumping them after the act.

“Bunny,” she answered, her tone radiating with the tone of expectation that if he was a friend of Yamcha’s he’d know exactly who she was. “Bunny Briefs, though my surname used to be Panchii.”

Vegeta pretended to think about whether or not he remembered the name before he shook his head. “I am sorry, but I do not recall,”

“Then you are no friend of Yamcha’s,” she replied snidely.

Vegeta shrugged. “The only female I recall him ever mentioning was one that he had been engaged to long ago, however she dumped him for someone far richer and for a lifestyle she assumed he could never hope to provide for her. Was that you?”

Her mother nearly blanched at that. “We were engaged, but _that_ is not what happened,” she snipped at him.

“My deepest apologies for my mistake,” he nodded respectfully at her. “Either I was misinformed or I was thinking of someone else.”

“I am the only other person he’s ever been engaged to, besides Bulma!” she informed him. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I had business in this city and am waiting for the train to departure,” he said. “It is several hours long, and I wanted to stand and stretch my legs before having to be cramped,” he indicated, showing that he was walking with a limp.

“You hurt yourself?” Bulma asked him.

“Hmmn,” he grunted affirmatively.

“How did you manage that?” She asked in concern.

“I fell off a curb,” he lied. “I will be fine. Just need to walk it off somewhat before we board. I assume this is your train back home as well?”

“It is,” Bulma nodded. “I was visiting my parents,”

“How nice for you,” he replied.

The train whistle sounded, indicating that it was time to leave. Bulma’s things were loaded appropriately and she gave her father a hug and said her goodbyes to her mother before boarding.

“So what happened, really?” Bulma asked Vegeta once the train had departed, helping him down on the small bed in the room.

“Leapt off a building after hitting my mark,” he answered, wincing as she removed his boot for him. “Underestimated how high it was,”

“Well that was stupid now, wasn’t it?” She commented in a clipped tone. “You really are completely reckless, aren’t you?”

Vegeta shrugged.

“You need to be more careful,” she said more softly, soothingly rubbing his swollen foot; it was not broken, but it looked to be badly sprained.

“Why? Because without me there would be no one to pleasure you?” He asked jokingly.

Bulma gave him a look. “There is that, but I care for you for more than just _that.”_

“Do not lie to yourself,” he scoffed. “The foundation of whatever is between us is physical and that is all. If there is more to it to you than that, then it is best we part ways now because this will only end in disaster if you care for me.”

Bulma looked at him. Was that how he really felt about her? “Well you are just as much my _friend_ as you are my lover,” she answered carefully.

“As are you,” he admitted. “Just do not be feeling things that are impossible; that will only bring more hardship to us both either when we part ways or should someone discover us.”

“I know,” she said quietly, massaging his foot and ankle carefully, trying to hide her disappointment in his lack of sentiment.

He noted the disappointed and somewhat haunted look she quickly gave him before she looked back down at his foot pretending to be concentrating hard on it instead of being bothered by the thought of ending things between them. He thought for a moment that it would be best for them to end this now. She was already far more deeply invested in him emotionally than she should be, but he couldn’t bring himself to end it just yet; if he was honest with himself, he really enjoyed his time with her beyond just the sex. “How was your visit with your parents?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Not as great as I’d hoped,” she answered. “You being snarky with my mom didn’t help matters any. I am sure Yamcha will be hearing about it,”

“Really? And why would he hear about it?”

“They still write one another,” she said bitterly.

Vegeta chuckled. “Are you serious?” he asked. “Actually no, are you really all that surprised?”

“Yes, and no,” she sighed, looking at his foot intently as she worked on it. “I just annoyed me and made me feel more trapped than I already am. I don’t know all of what he’s said to her, but she’s on his side, not mine.”

“I am sorry for agitating your mother,” he said. “I could not help myself. Women like that…”

“Turn you on?” she asked, quitting rubbing his foot and looking at him.

“No,” he said. “Women like _you_ do,”

Bulma sighed and shook her head, feeling like he was only saying what he thought she wanted her to hear.

He sat up and reached for her, pulling her on top of him. “I was not attracted to your mother,” he said seriously. “In fact, women like her, I take more satisfaction in ignoring them completely, than giving into and feeding into what they want. If your mother is agitated it is because I did not look at her as though I were mentally undressing her rather than what I said about not knowing who she was and then insulting her.”

“She’ll be mad over that for weeks,” she told him, feeling some satisfaction in knowing that.

“Good,” he grunted, kissing her.

Bulma wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. “I missed you,” she said quietly.

“Hmmn, I know,” he responded. “I am sorry I was not available when you called. I was out… doing research,”

“I thought as much,” she nodded. “It’s okay and probably for the better. If someone would have seen us, that would not have been good. I only came because I was upset with my parents for their nonchalant attitude over everything. My mother laughs and takes Yamcha’s side in any objection I have against him and my father just seems to think that this is the way things are and hopefully they will get better as time goes on,”

“What were you expecting?” he asked, though not in an unkind tone. “You are married now, there is not much they can do. Were you expecting them to pack you up and bring you back home permanently?”

“No,” she shook her head, not really knowing what she _had_ been expecting from them. It was them after all that had made the decision for her that she marry Yamcha. “I suppose all I wanted was to not feel lonely or to not feel like my situation is hopeless; like I have some support and maybe my mother might talk to him since she seems to have more of an influence on him than anything.”

“That would have been nice,” he agreed.

“The only time I do not feel lonely or hopeless is when I am with you,” she admitted.

His eyes hardened somewhat at that. “Do not become overly attached,” he warned again.

“I know,” she nodded, resting her head on his chest.

Vegeta sighed and brought an arm around her waist, caressing her lower back through her dress. He knew that she didn’t have anyone else except him, but he did not want to end things with her just yet either; even if it was dangerous for both of them.

Bulma leaned up and kissed him lightly on the mouth, letting one of her hands slide down his shirt and into his trousers where she could feel that he was already hard.

He growled appreciatively into her mouth as she gently massaged the thick appendage for a moment as she kissed him.

A moment later, she sat up and moved down, away from him and undid his trousers, letting his manhood spring out. She smiled as she looked at it standing proud and ready as she decided on what she was going to do with it.

Bulma wrapped her hand around him and began working him up and down, experimenting by twisting her hand around his shaft as she brought it back down to the base a few times before bending over and kissing the tip of him sensually. She then licked the head a few times before putting him in her mouth and she looked up at him as he sharply inhaled.

“Is this okay?” She asked in confusion.

“Trust me, it is _more_ than okay,” he replied, wishing she would continue.

She smiled at him and bent back down over him and took him into her mouth completely, starting a bobbing up and down, sliding him in and out of her mouth. He let her do this for a few minutes before placing one of her hands on his shaft. Understanding what he was silently asking for, she worked his manhood with her mouth and her hand.

As his pleasure began to build, he reached for and took her free hand, which was lingering on his upper left thigh. He threaded his fingers with hers, periodically squeezing her hand as she continued. He was silent for the most part with the exception of the odd sigh or grunt, but his holding her hand and squeezing it was encouragement enough for her that she was doing the right thing.

“Enough,” he growled suddenly after several minutes, reaching for her and hauling her up to him and crashing his lips to hers; both of his hands on either side of her face as he kissed her deeply.

She reached behind her to start undoing the back of her gown when he let her go. “What are you doing?” He asked in a raspy tone.

“Taking this off,” she muttered. “It’s too hot and awkward with this big, stupid dress on,” she said getting off of him and standing

Vegeta sat up to help with undoing the back of her dress. “You’re ruining the mood,” he growled petulantly as his fingers ripped through the laces of the bodice, quickly undoing it.

“Well, you’ll just have to be patient,” she teased as she shrugged the top off and was now wearing nothing but the thick skirt and gown portion.

“Leave it,” he commanded, pulling her back down to him, but pushing her away so she was sitting and somewhat leaned back. He bunched up the skirt and petticoats around her waist and pulled her undergarments down her legs so fast she barely had time to register what he’d done.

She wasn’t in the most comfortable position, but that was quickly forgotten. She moaned as he propped one of her knees up, giving him easy access and immediately his mouth went to her core. He lapped and sucked on her urgently for several moments before sliding one of his fingers inside her, his other hand spreading her folds apart so that he could run his tongue easily along her clit.

Bulma leaned back as best she could, trying her best to be quiet, hoping that if the rooms on either side were occupied, they would not hear them. She rocked her hips into his face, willing his finger to delve deeper into her.

“Deeper,” she finally moaned without fully realizing it.

He looked up at her and grinned deviously at her a moment before putting two fingers into his mouth, sucking on them briefly and then pushing them both slowly into her. He did that a few times before resuming his assault on her clit again; alternating between sucking aggressively on it and lightly licking at it with just the tip of his tongue as his fingers pumped into her relentlessly.

As Vegeta felt her inner walks beginning to tighten, he stopped his ministrations entirely. He lay back down and reached for her, guiding her to sit down on his throbbing member. She moaned lightly as she took him in completely.

He sat up to meet her and reached for her breasts as she rode him, his mouth closing around one of them, giving the nipple the same treatment he’d just given her nether regions just moments ago. His hand palmed and played with the other.

As he felt his own pleasure blooming to the surface, he placed his hands on her hips, making her grind harder into him.

“Come with me,” he whispered, looking at her.

She placed her hands on either side of his jaw as she grounded herself harder into him, feeling her own pleasure nearing her own completion.

Sensing that she needed a little help making it over the edge, he brushed his thumb along her clit a few times before she cried out and went stiff in his arms. Her own release causing him to climax hard into her.

Bulma continued to grind her hips into him as they both rode out their own glorious orgasm, making intense eye contact as they did so, both fully aware themselves, even if they refused to admit it openly to one another, that this _thing_ between them had grown into something much more profound than a simple casual affair.

She collapsed against him as soon as the rush of pleasure had passed and they both fell asleep together in each other’s arms in the small single bed on the train. They awoke just in time to engage in another very quick, heated session and straighten themselves out appropriately before their arrival.


	11. Chapter 11

Yamcha returned a few days before Christmas after being gone a total of nearly two months. He of course had returned with some very extravagant gifts for Bulma; a mink fur coat being the most exquisite, however her excitement was diminished at the knowledge that her mother had likely told him that was what she’d want. She’d  _always_ wanted a mink fur coat and her mother had always told her she was not old enough to own something as extravagant as a fur. 

Bulma wasn’t sure how to greet him or how to act around him, being that he had been gone for two months with barely a word of communication. He seemed happy to see her, but things remained as cordial as ever between them. She didn’t even feel comfortable bringing up the topic of him writing her mother and disclosing details of their private life to her, and so she left it for now.

Being that he still seemed to have no interest in trying to turn their relationship into something more  _normal,_ it eased Bulma’s guilt over her more recent actions almost entirely. If he did not want her that way, that was fine with her. She had someone who  _did._

They found themselves out for a New Years party on New Years night. Bulma had made sure she looked nothing short of stunning; it had been nearly two weeks since she’d seen Vegeta. While she knew the possibility of having an intimate collusion would likely be impossible, she still was excited by the possibility of seeing him.

Her dress was a classy royal blue A line, off the shoulder ball gown; she’d had her hair curled but pinned to the side so that the curls cascaded like gentle waves all on the left side of her face and shoulder.

It did not take long for Vegeta to find them shortly after they arrived.

“My friend, how have you been keeping?” Yamcha asked, tipping his champagne glass at him.

“I am well, thanks,” he nodded, glancing at Bulma appreciatively.

“I hear you were kind enough to keep my wife company on the train while on her way back home from visiting her parents last month.” 

He glanced at Bulma briefly in surprise, but did not miss a beat. “It was nothing,” he shrugged off. “It was nice having someone to visit with on my way home,”

“All the same, I appreciate that,” Yamcha said. “Where is Lazuli?”

Vegeta shrugged. “Somewhere. I have not seen her since we arrived here.”

“Well I promised Bulma an evening with  _no_  political talk so I will be sticking close tonight,” Yamcha joked and Vegeta had to refrain from snickering at the way Bulma discreetly wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes. “I won’t burden you with babysitting her this evening, so please enjoy yourself.”

Bulma turned and glared him.

“It was a  _joke_ , dear,” he chuckled. “Poor Vegeta is always the one stuck entertaining you when I’m sure he’d rather be finding someone else to occupy his attention; no offence to you, my friend. I just know how you feel about these large festivities. What did you used to call them back in the day? Oh right,  _fishing expeditions_.”

Vegeta winced at his friend’s mocking tone. “Believe me, it is a pleasure to entertain someone as classy and endearing as your wife,” he said. “You after all asked me to look out for her in your absence,”

“I did and I cannot thank you enough for that,” Yamcha nodded.

“That being said, do you want to dance?” Bulma asked him, wanting to change the subject before he said anything else stupid. She could tell Vegeta was not amused with him.

“Not yet, dear,” Yamcha replied. “I haven’t finished my first drink yet and I am quite curious to see who is all here,”

“No politics!” She snapped.

“No, no, I know, don’t worry,” he chuckled. “Though there are a few people I should talk with. Why don’t you dance with Vegeta if he is willing?”

Bulma looked pointedly at Vegeta. She’d like nothing more and she made a point of mentally remembering this so that if the worst case scenario came to pass, she would be more than happy to tell him that he essentially drove her into Vegeta’s arms. Especially since it was not even a moment ago, he told Vegeta that he would not be ditching her this evening!

“I would be very happy to dance with your wife and get her warmed up for you,” Vegeta replied slyly.

“Great!” Yamcha smiled, putting his hands together. “I won’t be long, I  _promise,”_ he said to Bulma, kissing her on the cheek. “Go have fun!”

“I plan to,” she said sourly to him, going with Vegeta.

“Nothing has changed, I see,” he said as he lead her to the dance floor.

“Nope,” she replied. “Though I’d rather dance with you,”

“I am sure you would,” he chuckled.

“I’ve missed you,” she told him quietly. “He’s leaving again in a few weeks. I will be counting down the days,”

“As will I,” he said, discreetly pulling her closer, but watching their surroundings carefully.

They danced together a few songs and of course Yamcha never came. “We should leave,” Bulma said to him. “He wouldn’t even notice,”

“No, but someone else might,” he advised even though he’d been having similar thoughts. He did not know the building well enough to know if there was someplace they could discreetly slip away to undetected.

“Are you sure you don’t want to… look around then for someone to  _amuse_ you?” She asked him. Yamcha joking about  _fishing expeditions_ earlier had reminded her that Vegeta may feel like he’s wasting his time with her, especially if Lazuli had found someone to entertain her for the evening, which she obviously had. She was no where to be seen, which was alright with Bulma. She had not seen her since the morning after her first night with Vegeta.

“There is no one else’s company I would rather,” he said, then added quietly. “I am not finished with you yet, unless you wish to be done.”

“No, not at all,” she replied.

He smirked at her. “Good,” he said. “Wait here, I want to take a look around. I will return,”

Bulma nodded at him, grabbing a fresh glass of champagne from one of the passing waiters.

She wandered around, looking for Yamcha. It took her a few minutes, but she did find him. Surrounded by four people giving what sounded like a passionate speech over one of his ideologies. She leaned against the wall as she sipped her champagne and observed him from a distance. She supposed he was handsome, there was no doubt about that. While a part of her was angry at being ditched again, a small part of her had to admire him for being so persistent. This was something he  _really_ wanted and he wasn’t about to let anything or anyone stand in his way. Unfortunately for her, it meant being neglected whenever they went out and she supposed she should be used to that by now and quit taking it so personally. A part of her felt guilty for not being able to put up and simply  _wait_  for things to get better.

Her father had indicated that perhaps the problem was that they were still too newly married and needed to still get used to one another. Maybe that was true? However they had been married for seven months. How could she get to know someone who was never around and chose to bail on her at every social event they attended together?

She was so lost in her thoughts she almost didn’t notice Vegeta appear and subtly beacon her with a nod from across the room. She looked at Yamcha once more; he had not noticed her standing not too far off from where he was and she paused, silently asking herself what the hell she was doing? It didn’t take her long to make up her mind and meet Vegeta at the other end of the room, which led into another dining room.

“I found a way to slip away unnoticed to another area of this place,” he said discreetly to her.

“Take me,” she said, making her decision, unable to say no to him.

He turned and she followed him.

Everyone was fairly inebriated or so absorbed in their own conversations that from what Bulma could tell, no one even noticed them slip away; she hoped anyway. She followed him and he discreetly indicated for her to go into a room as he walked passed it so as to make it not obvious that both of them would be entering it.

Bulma walked in; it was a small room with nothing for furnishings. It was dark, so she could not tell what it was typically used for.

A moment later, Vegeta entered and quietly closed the door. They could still hear the orchestra playing.

She went to him and wrapped her arms around his neck and he placed his hands on her hips, drawing her close. They swayed slowly to the tune of the music playing in the ballroom, enjoying the privacy of the room where no one would see them or judge how close they were dancing.

Bulma rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the moment of being close to him, wishing now more than ever that he was who she could have been with. It was so  _easy_  with him. They could pass the time in silence and it was comfortable in that she didn’t feel like she needed to be constantly engaging him in conversation.

She suddenly remembered. “I have a Christmas gift for you, kind of,” she said, looking up at him.

“Hmmm and here I did not get you anything because I was worried it would attract attention,” he replied.

“That’s alright. Technically neither did I,” she smiled, not upset. “I finished your gun.”

“Did you?” He replied in surprise. “That did not take you very long,”

“No,” she agreed. “Though I have not fired it to see if it is truly fixed. I added a few modifications as well though.” She told him, getting excited.

“Save it for when you can show me,” he said, chuckling at her enthusiasm. The music had stopped and the count down to midnight was beginning. “You should leave and go find Yamcha,”

Bulma shook her head. “I’m  _exactly_ with who I want to be with on New Years,”

“Is that so?” He asked, raising his eyebrow. “Well, the feeling is mutual.”

He lowered his lips to hers as everyone began cheering in the other room that it was officially the New Year.

She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself into him as she kissed him back fiercely, wanting to forget that she would not be going home with him at the end of the evening. His arms were around her waist; one on her hip, the other travelling slowly and sensually up and down her back, holding her close as he kissed her back intently, making her feel warm and secure and she never wanted him to let her go. 

They remained that way, making out intensely for a few minutes after the fact before he let her go. “I am sure he will have noticed your absence by now. Go,”

“Where will you be?” She asked.

“I will go home,” he said. “But you leave first and in a few minutes I will leave this room and head out.”

“Alright,” she said, still holding one of his hands, not wanting to sever the physical contact. She quickly kissed him one last time before stepping away from him. “Happy New Year, Vegeta,”

“Happy New Year,” he responded, watching her as she exited the room and closed the door behind her.

Vegeta sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. It was becoming harder and harder to let her go after each time they were together. He waited a few minutes like he said he would and then decided to leave.

He stepped outside and noticed their carriage was gone. Lazuli must have left already, he assumed. “Fucking bitch,” he muttered under his breath for her essentially stranding him there.

With a heavy sigh, he began walking in the direction of his home; it was not that far and the weather was fairly mild. A cool walk would do him some good right now, he told himself.

* * *

Bulma walked quickly around the dance hall looking for Yamcha but could not find him. Anxiety began to wash through her at the thought that perhaps he had discovered them or someone had told him that she and Vegeta had snuck away. 

As she began to panic, she found him.

“Where have you been?” He asked, somewhat annoyed. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Vegeta took sick while we were dancing and so he went home,” she said. It was the first thing she could think of on the fly. It seemed legitimate; Vegeta had indicated he would be leaving. “I was trying to find Lazuli to let her know, but I could not find her so I stayed with him outside until he seemed well enough. I think he just drank too much,”

“Hmmm,” he replied, though he did not seem completely convinced. Mentally she cursed herself for not asking Vegeta for a cover story in case Yamcha  _had_ noticed her brief absence. “Well hopefully she is not left stranded. However I am sure he wouldn’t do that to her. They live not that far from here. Did he walk?”

“I’m not sure,” she shook her head and wished she’d thought this through better. She was a terrible liar. “He was out side when I left him,”

“I’m sure it will work itself out,” he shrugged. “Those two have a bit of a strange relationship. I wonder about them from time to time,”

“It’s not our business,” she said quickly, wanting to change the subject.

“Quite right, it isn’t,” he agreed. “Are you ready to head home?”

“I was hoping you would dance with me,” she said, hoping that if he danced with her if he had any suspicions, that would cancel them out and it would ease some of her guilt for slipping away to have a heated make out session with Vegeta.

“Really?” He sighed. “I kind of just want to go home,”

She looked at him and debated for a moment on how to react. On one hand she was ready to go home, but on the other she was annoyed by him just bailing on her all evening again! No, she decided she wasn’t going to let him get away with it that easily. “Seriously? I asked you earlier and you pawned me off on Vegeta as usual even though you told him you wouldn’t do that! Then you ditched me  _again_  to go schmooze with your political buddies when you  _promised_ me that you would actually spend the evening with me!”

Yamcha looked around, hoping that no one was listening to her tirade. Thankfully it appeared that everyone was too drunk to care or notice. “Can we have this discussion at home? I’d like to for once not have a fight with you at a gathering.”

“Well maybe if you didn’t treat me like a burden you have an obligation to carry around instead of a wife that you actually care for, I wouldn’t get angry!” She told him. “You’ve warned me so many times about people getting the wrong idea if I say or do something, guess what? People are probably going to think I’m  _married_ to Vegeta and not you! I’m always dancing and conversing with him and never you!” She knew she was pushing her luck, but didn’t really care.

“Are you drunk? Because you’re being ridiculous,” he snapped at her.

“No, I’m  _not_ drunk!” She replied. “I wish I was though! Maybe I’d find this whole thing funny instead of depressing.”

“Alright,” he sighed. “Do you really want to dance that bad? Let’s go,”

“No, I don’t want to anymore,” she shook her head. “Apparently it’s a chore so no, I agree with you, it’s time to go home.”

Yamcha sighed and shook his head at her. Sometimes she made no sense to him and when she got like this. Her mother always told him how easy going and easy to please she was, yet he had yet to see that side to her.

“Alright, lets go home then.”

Bulma followed him and they went home.

The next two weeks were spent avoiding each other for the most part. Except for meals. The weather was mild one morning and Yamcha had requested they have their mid morning coffee outside on their balcony, overlooking the ocean. It was still fairly chilly, but the sun was shining warm on them and it was a nice, peaceful setting, he was due to leave again in a few days and he did not want to leave her behind on bad terms.

To his surprise and delight, she grabbed a blanket and agreed to sit outside with him and so they settled in.

As they were enjoying coffee and snacks on the veranda, watching people on the beach, she noticed Vegeta coming up out of the water. Had he actually been swimming? It was the middle of January; the water had to have been freezing!

“Is that Vegeta?” Yamcha commented, noticing him at the same time she must have.

“I don’t know,” Bulma replied nonchalantly, pretending to scan the beach for him in the other direction. “Where?”

“Right there,” he said, pointing.

Her stomach fluttered pleasantly as he was fully emerged from the water now and stood on the beach. They were a fair distance away, but her heart beat faster and she felt warm at the sight of him despite the crisp weather. He was shirtless, only wearing long, tight shorts that accented his well-defined thighs and she vividly remembered what it felt like to have him between her thighs or how he’d nudge her legs apart with one of his thighs. Or what it felt like to lay against his strong chest or run her hands along his perfect abdomen, or casually falling asleep in his arms after...

She started and her indecent thoughts were rudely interrupted when Yamcha whistled loudly in an attempt to attract Vegeta’s attention.

Vegeta heard him and raised his arm in greeting as he picked up his towel and quickly dried himself off and began to approach their home after picking up a large leather bag she assumed had his clothes in it.

“Come over! Join us for some tea, you must be freezing!” Yamcha said when he was close to the house. “And for  _god’s sake_ put some clothes on. You make the rest of us mere mortals think poorly of themselves.”

Vegeta nodded once, making brief eye contact with Bulma and went around to the other side of the house where Bulma assumed Baba had let him in to change. In a few minutes, he greeted them on their veranda, fully clothed.

Bulma stood to greet him and was pleasantly surprised when he took her hand and kissed the back of it tenderly, giving her a heated glance all the while. It took every ounce of self-control for her to not fall into a puddle of mush in front of him and she was instantly irritated that he would flirt with her like this in front of her husband!

“Are you  _insane,_ swimming in the ocean on a day like today?” She snipped at him, taking her hand back and sitting back down and re wrapping herself in her blanket. “It’s  _freezing_  in there and the waves are simply treacherous!”

“Irresponsible and reckless as always,” Yamcha commented with a grin, shaking his friend’s hand in greeting. “That’s Vegeta. That will never change, I’m afraid.”

“I was told by a fortune teller when I was eight that I would die a glorious and honorable death,” he boasted. “Since such is the case, it means I am free to live my life on the edge. I take much comfort in the old proverb,  _a man destined for the gallows can never drown_.”

“Surely you aren’t that morbid or that stupid so as to risk your life based on the prediction of some gypsy,” Bulma said in irritation. The waves were strong and crashing against the rocks! It would be dangerous for anyone to be swimming, no matter how strong or experienced.

“Your concern is touching, my lady,” he said, nodding once at her. “Yamcha your wife is far too kind and caring.”

“Isn’t she?”

Bulma refrained from rolling her eyes at them both.

“However if it is a war you are hoping to find your glorious end in, I am afraid you’ll either have to go to China or find a roundabout way of instigating something here, for I cannot see a war breaking out here for some time.” Yamcha said. “Though even so, you should have more care for your well being, one day you will not be so lucky,”

“Is that your advice of the day, Yamcha?” Vegeta scoffed at him. “What fun is life if you never take any risks or do the things you wish?”

“Do as you want, my friend,” Yamcha said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I am simply admonishing you to be careful because one day your luck will run out. Don’t you think it’s time you grew up and settled down? Maybe start a family with Lazuli while you both are still young and able?”

“Speak for yourself,” Vegeta snorted at the suggestion. “Why would I want to brig a child into this world? We are both far too selfish and Lazuli is much too vain to want to ruin herself by carrying a child. How about you?”

“Oh no,” he shook his head. “I am far too busy to even think of expanding our family right now.”

Bulma had tuned out from their conversation a while ago. She was watching another young couple ride their horses along the shoreline longingly. If only her parents hadn’t sold her horse when she’d left and if only she had thought to ask for her… She had been so preoccupied worrying about the wedding and how much she didn’t want it to happen that she hadn’t even thought to ask to bring her horse with her.

“What’s wrong, my dear are we boring you?” Yamcha asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“No, I am not bored. I was thinking about how sad it was that I did not ask my parents to send Shadow with me when I moved here with you. I forgot how much I missed riding.” She mused, still watching the couple on the beach.

“Well that is easily remedied,” Vegeta shrugged.

“Not necessarily,” Yamcha said. “It will take a lot of time to find an appropriate mount for her. Time which I do not have right now,”

“I’m experienced enough that I don’t need an old nag,” she argued.

“I can look for one for her,” Vegeta offered, raising an eyebrow at her.

Bulma felt her stomach flip. Here he was, shamelessly making plans for a rendezvous right in front of her husband! “Please, Yamcha?” She asked sweetly and she wanted it to be okay for more than just an excuse to spend time with Vegeta for obvious reasons. She really did want her own horse again. It would mean freedom. “It would mean so much to me to have my own horse. I could ride on the beach and go do my own shopping. I get so bored here when you aren’t home.”

“I suppose,” he gave in with a sigh, though he wasn’t thrilled about the prospect. “Though I still don’t want you riding alone when I am gone. Vegeta, be sure you choose something appropriate for her; I don’t need her breaking her neck.”

“I shall only choose the best,” Vegeta agreed. “As for her riding alone, Raditz and I ride together quite frequently. She may accompany us. I may be able to entice Lazuli to come out as well, it’s been ages since her horse was ridden. Maybe this will convince her to start riding the poor thing again,”

“Hmmm, that is my other worry,” he admitted. “Once the novelty wears off, it will be nothing more than a neglected extra mouth to feed and an  _expensive_ one at that. Are you sure you’re not content with just walking Puar? Or I could get you a puppy instead?” He suggested.

“No,” she shook her head firmly. “I want a horse. A big, beautiful, black horse with the longest, thickest mane and tail that I can groom and braid and make pretty.”

“You’ll get whatever Vegeta decides is  _safe_  for you to be riding,” Yamcha said. “Ugly or otherwise. Is that clear?”

“Quite,” Vegeta nodded, but quickly gave Bulma an amused glance and she wasn’t sure if that meant he would try to find what she wanted or he would look for the ugliest horse he could find just because he thought it would be funny.

“So, any interesting stories to tell me, Vegeta?” Yamcha asked casually, wanting to change the subject. “It’s been so long since we had a chance to catch up properly. Are you seeing someone special on the side or have you finally grown up and given up your promiscuous ways?” he asked, mockingly. Bulma wasn't sure if he was asking out of sincere interest or because he was jealous of Vegeta's lifestyle. Whatever the reason, it seemed to really pick at him when really, it shouldn't have been any of his business how his friend lived his life. Another thought occurred to her though; maybe he wasn't jealous at all. Yamcha kept picking on his friend over it because it confirmed to him in  _his_  mind that he was better than Vegeta in terms of morality. The conversation she'd had with Vegeta in his gun room the night Lazuli had invited her over and she'd wandered into his private study and seen his gun collection came to mind. Vegeta had told her that Yamcha was extremely insecure. Was that why he constantly brought up Vegeta being reckless or Vegeta's womanizing ways? So he could feel  _superior_  to his friend? She wasn't sure, but it annoyed her to no end. 

“As a matter of fact, there  _is_ someone,” he admitted and Bulma felt the blood drain from her face straight to her gut. He wouldn’t, would he?

“Is there? Do tell! Do I know her?” Yamcha asked with interest.

“You do,” he confirmed with a nod. “However this one is different. I will not be boasting about this one.”

“That’s unlike you,” Yamcha commented. “She must be special or someone of high status that even you don’t want it to get out. Vegeta, when will you learn?”

Vegeta shrugged with a sly smile, not looking at Bulma and making certain he was not giving anything away. “Once again, why live with rules?”

“What I don’t understand is why you feel the need to seduce every female that catches your eye when you have a delightful wife who is charming to be around and strikingly attractive to look at? Surely she disagrees with your many affairs,” Yamcha went on.

Bulma rolled her eyes. Apparently he was determined to stand up on his soap box this morning giving sermons and make light of everyone else’s indiscretions in his eyes instead of examining what was wrong in his own home. This was a trait of Yamcha she had come to detest. He could find fault with everyone else, yet apparently saw himself, his own principles and the way he conducted his life as above reproach.

“Not everyone has a happy marriage,” Vegeta shrugged.

“I’m sorry to hear that, my friend,” Yamcha said. “It saddens me that not everyone can be as happy as Bulma and myself.

Bulma fought the urge to not choke on her tea as she was as mid sip. Was he seriously flaunting that illusion like a charlatan? What embarrassed her even more about his comment was that Vegeta  _knew_  he was lying about this supposed  _happy marriage_ he was talking about. While it may be true that he was happy with the way things were, she wasn’t and Vegeta knew that. She just hoped Vegeta didn't say something to indicate that he  _knew_  Yamcha was lying. He  _did_  like to antagonize people subtly, like he had her mother. She just hoped he would refrain from throwing his own digs back at Yamcha. 

“Lazuli has her vices, I have mine and we both stay out of each other’s way.  _That_ is the key to a happy marriage I have found,” Vegeta shrugged, ignoring Yamcha’s claim that his own marriage was wonderful. “You are still newly married, you have much to learn. Call on me when you are in need of advice. Pleasing the ladies is my forte,”

“A true Casanova in his own mind,” Yamcha snorted, shaking his head.

“Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?” Vegeta asked, though his tone was humorous.

“None at all,” Yamcha shook his head. “I just think at your age, it is time to start being serious and quit with the womanizing and death defying acts. It will all catch up with you one day, mark my words; however I hope I am not around to be the one to say  _I told you so,_ ”

Vegeta shrugged. “It would take something or  _someone_  very special to reform me from my ways,”

Bulma, who had been silently listening closely, but trying to appear disinterested, looked up at him and felt her cheeks redden at not only his statement, but the fact that he was looking at her when he's said it. “That’s enough!” She snipped. “ _Now_ you two are boring me! When will we go shopping for my new horse?”

“When would you like to go?” Vegeta asked.

“When are you available to look around?” She countered.

“I am available any time for you,” Vegeta said.

Yamcha raised an eyebrow at the casual flow of their seemingly  _easy_  banter. For the first time, it dawned on him how...  _familiar_ they seemed with each other. “I suppose I could make time this afternoon, if you really want to start looking. If we don’t find anything today, then I’ll have you take over, Vegeta.”

Bulma’s heart sank. She’d  _really_ been looking forward to going with Vegeta. She was sure he would put in the effort to not only find her an appropriate horse, but a beautiful one too. Yamcha wouldn’t care and would probably choose something old and dying.

“Actually, I have a proposition for you that may save you both some time,” Vegeta spoke up. “I am in need of a new mount. Mine is getting old and I would like something new I can use for hunting and sporting purposes; however he is reliable, still has many good years left in him as a companion and pleasure horse and is aesthetically almost exactly what you have in mind, Bulma. You are welcome to take a look at him. He is here, I rode him to the beach this morning,”

“Your old war horse?” Yamcha scoffed. “Not exactly what I had in mind, Vegeta but thanks for the offer.”

“ _Retired_ war horse,” Vegeta corrected him. “I can assure you, he is as stable and sound as they come and has even saved my life on occasion due to his soundness of mind in a chaotic battle field setting,”

“Yes well, I doubt Bulma will be riding into the middle of a war zone,” Yamcha pointed out, still not keen on his offer. "He's too big."

“Can we at least take a look at him?” Bulma asked, beginning to become exceedingly annoyed that she was being cut out of the conversation and that Yamcha was so down on her getting any kind of horse.

“I suppose taking a look wouldn’t do any harm,” Yamcha said, though he didn’t seem enthused. “You are certain it’s a horse you want?”

“Yes!” She insisted.

“The key to a happy married life is a happy wife,” Vegeta said jokingly.

“Very well, then,” Yamcha sighed. “At least when she gets bored of it, you can have it back."

“Certainly,” Vegeta nodded.

Bulma rolled her eyes. Why was he treating her like a child in front of a guest? And Vegeta making light of his stupid comments and joking it off as though no big deal was also making her angry, however she gave him the benefit of the doubt. He couldn't exactly out right defend her or Yamcha might figure out that something beyond a casual friendship was between them. At least he was on her side in helping her to choose a horse for herself. 

The trio finished their tea before heading outside to take a look at Vegeta’s horse. Of course, Bulma fell in love with him immediately. He was  _exactly_ what she’d wanted, though Vegeta kept his mane and tail fairly short. It would just take time to grow it out and then he would look like her dream horse she’d always wanted.

In the end, Yamcha begrudgingly agreed to let her have him and they took Vegeta home together in their carriage, now that he no longer had a horse to ride home.

“Thank you, Yamcha,” she said to him, simply beaming as she began grooming the beautiful horse once they’d returned home.

“You’re welcome,” he said, watching her. “I suppose it was a worthwhile investment if it makes you smile like that.”

“I’m  _bored_ , Yamcha,” she sighed. “I cannot just hole myself up in my work room all the time,”

“Well I have told you time and again to go out and meet people. There are always lots of festivities going on. You decline every invitation,”

“I don’t  _know_  anyone!” She said. “Maybe if I was able to leave and go out and about, I’d meet people and I would actually feel comfortable going to these things on my own.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “I just want you to be happy,”

She gave him a fleeting glance as she continued to work on grooming her new horse. For someone who claimed to only want her to be happy, he sure didn’t seem to want to put in the effort; or that’s how she felt. “I will be happy,” she said finally. “Just stop treating me like a child,”

“Right,” he said. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. You’re just so much younger than me…”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she cut him off. “Just make it right. That’s all I ask.”

“Right,” he said again. “I will be leaving in two weeks again; for a while this time,”

“I know,” she replied, not glancing at him. She didn’t even bother asking him if she could come along with him. There was no point, plus if she remained here, it would mean she could resume spending time with Vegeta. She realized for the first time, she couldn’t wait for him to leave! Now that she had her own horse and someone to keep her company and offer companionship, what did she really need Yamcha around for?

“Can you do me a favor while I am gone?”

“What’s that?” She asked.

“I’m not accusing you of anything, I just want you to watch yourself around Vegeta is all.”

“How do you mean?” She asked, pretending to be surprised. “He’s your friend and you made it clear to me that he was to be trusted. He’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman to me when you are gone.”

“I’m sure he has,” he snorted sarcastically. “Just be sure you aren’t making  _too_ good an impression on him and that you’re not  _too comfortable_ with him is all I’m saying,”

Bulma became instantly irritated. “Well it’s not like I know anyone else really, other than Vegeta and Lazuli,” she said coolly.

“Alright and whose fault is that?” He asked her. “You don’t go out unless I am with you and when we do go out-”

“You ditch me to rub shoulders with and talk politics with everyone you know and leave me behind with all the old snobs who won’t give me the time of day and the only person who  _will_ talk to me is Vegeta!” She pointed out.

“And why do you think that is?” He asked her.

“Because he’s a gentleman?” She shrugged.

Yamcha chuckled. “Sure, he is. But he’s also an opportunist who will prey on young, naïve girls like yourself.”

Bulma didn’t say anything. What could she say? Anything she might say in Vegeta’s defense might implicate them  _both_. However she was resentful of Yamcha for basically pushing her in Vegeta’s direction and now being uncomfortable that they were friends. How was that her fault? “Well, all I can say is, he’s been nothing but proper and wonderful to me.”

“Right,” he snorted sarcastically again, not buying it.

“Well maybe if you at least  _tried_ to include me in your discussions at these parties instead of leaving me behind as quickly as possible and pawning me off on Vegeta to entertain me, as you so keenly put it on New Years, or if you stuck around here more often and treated me as a wife instead of a child or maybe if you asked me to accompany you on your extended trips, maybe I wouldn’t be so chummy with him,” she snipped back. “Ever think of that instead of immediately becoming jealous because another man enjoys my company and I enjoy his? What’s next, are you going to be jealous because Mr. Satan sends me the odd letter here and there asking me how I am?”

“No,” he shook his head as though she were being silly.

“Any why is that?” she asked. “Because he is a buffoon and you do not see him as a threat?”

“Of course not,” he responded, waving his hand dismissively. “Mr. Satan may be eccentric, but his principals are beyond reproach. If he is writing to you, it is out of kindness to you and respect of our friendship; not because he has ulterior motives.”

“And how do you know Vegeta’s motives?” she challenged him. “He is your friend. Did you not charge him with checking in on me in your absence?

“I  _know_  Vegeta,” he sighed. “I know him better than almost anyone and I  _know_  what he is capable of. His own principals would not keep him from cuckolding me, close friend or not, if he thought he had a chance with you. Just be careful around him is all I am saying,”

“Alright,” she replied. “I will.” Even though she wanted to add that it was a little late now for the counsel.

"The fall out from any scandal that would occur if people thought there was something more than casual friendship between the two of you would be more than detrimental to me," he added. 

Bulma took a deep breath, held it in a moment before slowly exhaling as she refrained from lobbing the large horse brush at him. "So that's why you care?" she snapped at him. Apparently she could have an affair, so long as nobody found out about it because god forbid it ruined his political image. Instead of wanting to work on building their marriage so that no one would ever even  _think_  she would have the need to do such a thing, he was putting a guilt trip on her so she wouldn't tarnish his image.

"Oh course!" he replied. "What does that say about my leadership qualities if I cannot even have the loyalty of my own wife?" 

"Or you mean  _control_  over your own wife?" she corrected him, giving him a snide glance. She knew she needed to shut up right now or she would give herself away, but she was angered and fed up with him to the point that she almost  _wanted_  him to know. maybe Vegeta was right. Maybe it would be  _good_  for him to know that she had found from someone else what she could never get from him?

"That's not what I said, but alright," he nodded. 

"I won't do anything to jeopardize your political career," she assured him. So far, she and Vegeta had managed to be very discreet and no one suspected a thing. 

"I appreciate that, thank you. That's all I ask," he said before leaving her alone with her new horse. 

As Bulma continued on grooming, despite not really needing to, it occurred to her that he had not told her she  _could not_  have an affair with Vegeta; he just did not want anyone to  _find out_  if she did. She shrugged and decided that ruled out any wrong doing on her end as far as she was concerned. 

The next day, they met Vegeta and Raditz on the beach for a ride.

“You bought a new horse already?” Bulma asked Vegeta as they met up. He was riding a beautiful dapple grey horse.

“No,” he shook his head. “This one is Lazui’s,”

“It reminds me of mine that I used to have,” she told him, looking at the beautiful horse.

“I’d have offered this one to you, as Lazuli almost never takes her out anymore, however she can be as temperamental as her owner,” he said.

The four of them rode together down the beach to a spot behind a cove of tall rock formations where there was a picnic bench. There, they shared a bottle of whiskey between them that Raditz had brought with him.

This had become part of the daily routine for the next two weeks before Yamcha had to leave again. Bulma kept up with it daily, meeting Vegeta and Raditz, who would usually leave for them to be alone for a ride and heated make out session if there was no one around to see. They carried on like this the entire time without second thought, simply enjoying the moments spent together while they could.

Yamcha was gone another five months with barely any correspondence before Bulma heard word that he would be returning within the week. The fact that Bulma had barely heard from him bothered her immensely, but didn’t at the same time. It was odd.

It bothered her because she  _knew_ he was likely writing her mother on a daily basis for whatever reason, but on the other hand, it didn’t bother her because it made her feel less and less guilty for continuing her adulterous affair with Vegeta. If Yamcha didn’t care enough to even try to keep in touch and work on things from a distance, then she didn’t care that she was having an affair with another man. No one, not Baba, not any one else that knew them knew of the affair and in her mind that was sticking with her promise to him that she would not do anything to sabotage his political career. 

Bulma rolled over, feeling like she was going to be sick. She was going to get out of bed, but felt a strong pair of arms pull her back into the middle of the bed.

She smiled to herself, despite not feeling the greatest. “What are you still doing here?” She asked quietly.

“You said your husband would be home sometime today,” he mumbled. “Who knows how long until he will be gone again. Didn’t you say he said he would try to stick around a while this time?”

“Hmmm,” she nodded, her heart sinking at the thought that it may be a while before they would be able to find a way to see each other like this again. “That’s what he said, but you know him. If something comes up, he’ll be gone. I’m more worried about Baba discovering you here,”

“I’ll be discreet,” he said, running his nose along the back of her neck the way he knew she loved. He gradually moved on to nipping her neck and one of his hands around her waist began to travel down to dip in between her legs.

“I’m not feeling so great,” she moaned quietly, though she could feel her body already responding to him. “I think I drank too much wine last night,”

“Hmmm,” he grunted and settled for just holding her close instead. “Light weight,” he teased her.

Bulma smiled to herself and settled in his arms. She would definitely miss him while Yamcha was home. He didn’t spend the full night with her very often; t was far too risky, but she loved it when he did. She loved waking up in his arms. Now she’d be going back to sleeping alone and walking on egg shells around her husband.

It had been eight months since this affair had started and despite her conscience telling her it was wrong, it was the only  _right_  thing in her world.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said.

“We’ll still see each other,” he replied.

“It won’t be the same though,” she sighed. Not to mention she knew it would hurt her if she saw him pursuing other women. She knew she had no claim on him, nor should she expect him to remain faithful to her; this whole thing was ridiculous as it was, but that wouldn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt any less to see him focusing on someone else. What if this was it and when Yamcha inevitably left again he didn’t resume their affair? Her throat tightened at the thought of never feeling this contentment ever again.

As though able to read her thoughts, he squeezed her closer to him. “I will be here when he leaves,” he whispered reassuringly into her ear.

“I understand if you wouldn’t be,” she said despite herself. Maybe time apart would be good? No good would come if this; it had to end sooner or later no matter how badly she wanted to hang onto him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked.

Bulma shrugged. “We’ve been carrying on this way for almost a year. If you’re bored, I would understand if you moved on.”

“Did I say I was bored?” He bristled.

“No,” she answered.

“Then do not dwell on idiotic notions,”

She smiled to herself again, relieved that for the time being it seemed as though he still wanted to stay with her. She placed the nagging thoughts of  _how long can this be sustained_  to the deepest recesses of her mind and turned herself in his arms, resting her head in his chest. She moaned in discomfort as her stomach objected to the sudden movement.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“I think so,” she nodded.

They held each other and silently enjoyed the other’s company for a few minutes longer before Vegeta decided it was time to leave.

“I hate to see you go,” she said, curling up on her side, watching him dress.

“Your house staff is not up yet,” he said.

“No, not yet,” she agreed. “Baba will be up soon, if she isn’t already. Stay far away from the kitchen when you leave, just in case. Roshi won’t be up yet for a little while so you should be alright.”

“Hmmm,” he grunted, turning to face her when he was fully dressed. “I will see you soon,”

Bulma smiled at him. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said as he leaned in to give her a parting kiss good bye.

She propped herself up and kissed him back. “Don’t forget about me,” she said, sitting up and hugging him. She knew she was probably coming off as clingy, but he truly was her lifeline. Without him, she’d have likely ended herself by now.

Vegeta smirked and nipped the tip of her nose in response before quietly leaving her bedroom.

Bulma rolled back over in bed, bringing her legs up to her chest hoping to alleviate her upset stomach. Was it upset because she was hungover or was it just anxiety and dread knowing that Yamcha would be home in a few hours? She didn’t know, but she knew she needed to get up soon and wash up and make herself presentable for him.

After about a half hour, she could smell breakfast and decided to get up to eat and ask Baba to run her a bath. She did a quick but thorough inspection of her bedroom to make sure there was nothing out of place that would give away the fact that she’d had a  _guest_  in her bedroom that evening and then made her way downstairs.

“You’re up early,” Baba commented.

“Yamcha’s coming home today,” she said. “I thought I’d have breakfast and an early bath and make myself presentable for his arrival,”

“A fine idea,” she nodded with a smile and some of Bulma’s anxiety diminished at the realization that the older woman had no idea what had gone on last night. “I received a letter from the master stating that he will be home in the late afternoon but to have a nice dinner prepared for the two of you, as he wishes to stay in this evening.”

“That sounds nice,” she agreed.

Baba smiled at her, hoping that after so much time spent apart, maybe they would be able to reconcile and start fresh. She did not like that Bulma spent so much time with Lazuli and Vegeta. A young woman needed her husband.

Bulma had a very light breakfast, her stomach still wasn’t sitting quite right but she was alright for the most part and settled into the nice, warm bath after her meal.

As she soaked and relaxed, she began thinking that it was a good thing Yamcha was returning now. It would be time for her cycle within the next few days and that usually kept Vegeta away anyway for a week.

She washed herself thoroughly, more to clear her conscience of her sins than because she was really that dirty, and began getting ready for Yamcha’s arrival.


	12. Chapter 12

Yamcha returned home around four o’clock in the afternoon; just in time to settle in, get a change of clothes to relax for a little while and be ready for dinner.

“You are looking well,” he said to Bulma, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “So are you,”

They sat down to dinner and shared the wonderful meal that Baba had prepared. The conversation ran smoothly as they told each other about what they had done with themselves over the last few months; apparently Yamcha had made good progress and had won many supporters on the other side of Germany. Within a few months there would be an election and he had every intention of running in it.

“I should be home for a little while this time,” he told her as they dug into dessert. “If you would like to take a trip somewhere, I think now is a good time for us to do so,”

“I agree,” she nodded.

“You deserve some amusement for staying here and faithfully waiting for me,” he said.

Bulma began to have a coughing fit as she swallowed her cake wrong.

“Are you alright?” Yamcha asked in concern.

“Yes,” she managed to wheeze between coughs as she reached for her wine and took a long sip. “Sorry, went down the wrong tube,”

Yamcha grinned at her. “I thought a lot about you and me while I was away these last few months. I’ve realized that I have been rather unfair to you. You’re young and you came into this marriage arrangement with different expectations than I did. You must feel like you are wasting yourself here all on your own. I am much older than you are and I’m not perfect, I have my demons that I need to face, but now that I have some downtime, I’d like to spend it with you so that we might have a more _normal relationship_ ,”

Bulma’s heart sank. On one hand this was what she’d been longing to hear from him all along, but on the other, she knew this would mean giving Vegeta up entirely and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that.

“Maybe a few weeks away on our own would do us good and we can start over?” He suggested, hoping she would agree.

Bulma wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted to say yes and knew she should say yes, but inside all she felt was _no._ It was too little too late in her mind. Maybe if he hadn’t told her he looked at her as a daughter figure instead of a spouse, or if she didn’t know he still regularly corresponded with her mother, she’d feel differently, but she didn’t.

“You said you would let me make it up to you one day, here’s me attempting to do that,” he reminded her, picking up on her hesitation.

“Right, and I meant that when I said it,” she nodded. She remembered and she _had_ meant it at the time. However that was before Vegeta. If she agreed to let Yamcha make it up to her and fix their marriage, that meant ending things with Vegeta and she knew she did not want to do that; she wasn’t sure she even _could_. “You just really hurt me, Yamcha. Taking me on a romantic trip and spoiling me for a few weeks won’t just magically _fix_ it.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But it would be a start. Won’t you at least think about it?”

“I will,” she agreed; and she would. She needed to decide what it was she wanted. Could she be happy with Yamcha if things became better between them, or would she still long for Vegeta while simply going through the motions? Would she be able to give Vegeta up even if she did want to give her marriage an _honest_ try, she wondered.

Two weeks passed before Bulma decided that she was definitely pregnant. Her cycle was well over two weeks late, and she felt ill in the morning until early afternoon; though she had taken great lengths to conceal this. Not even Baba, as nosy as she was, had noticed.

Of course, she panicked and went through every emotion of fear and dread and misery and everything in between, except for happiness. How could she be happy about this when it would be apparent to everyone that Yamcha absolutely could _not_ be the father? She couldn’t possibly tell Vegeta either.

This was what happened when you lived with no consequences, she thought bitterly, feeling even more sick at the idea that everything was about to come crashing down around her if she didn’t think of something fast.

As her mind began to work it over in her mind, it was then that she decided to take Yamcha up on his offer to go on a vacation. If they went away together and she came back pregnant, no one would think anything was suspicious about that. She was sure she could also find a way to manipulate Yamcha into bedding her, even if it was just _once_. On their honeymoon, he had given into her if he had too much to drink; it could be an _accident._ That would be believable. She loathed herself for thinking that way and immediately thought of sleeping with her husband as a betrayal to Vegeta, however Vegeta was also married, so she was sure he still must have engaged with Lazuli when they could not get together for a while; she did not like to think about it, but it made sense. Why should she be any different?

When she was feeling better, she went to Yamcha and told him that she would love nothing more than to go on a second honeymoon with him and wanted to leave immediately.

He was enthralled.

Later on in the day, they went for a ride together on the beach. Of course, they ran into Vegeta and Raditz and Bulma found it extremely awkward to put on the air of indifference towards Vegeta so that Yamcha would not suspect anything.

They went to the usual bench behind the rocks and shared some sips from a bottle of whiskey that Raditz had brought with him and Yamcha told them all about the trip they would soon be leaving on together. All the while, Bulma kept mostly to herself and refrained from sharing the whiskey with the men.

“Are you alright,” Vegeta managed ask her when they had a spare moment where Yamcha was riding up ahead with Raditz, having an in depth political debate. She had been quieter than usual and looked pale, not her usual vibrant self.

“I’m fine,” she answered and immediately all she wanted to do was cry and ask him to hold her even though she knew it was the absolute _last_ thing she could do and that alone made her feel more hopeless and alone than she already did. She knew he couldn’t possibly genuinely care for her. She knew he _liked_ her; obviously. They’d been fooling around in secret for some time now, but as she felt herself slowly falling more and more deeply for him and now that she was certain she was pregnant with his child, she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same for her, if even only a little bit?

Did he care about her beyond the sex? If she told him how she really felt about him, that she was pregnant, that she would leave Yamcha in a heartbeat just to be with him if he asked her to, would he consider doing the same or would he break her heart and abandon her once he knew her true feelings or that she was carrying _his_ child?

A part of her desperately wanted to tell him, but a small part of her was too afraid to put it out there. If he laughed at her stupidity for letting her feelings ruin an otherwise good thing, she would be crushed. If he was angry with her for not only getting pregnant but letting herself develop these impossible feelings for him when he’d repeatedly warned her not to and never wanted to see her again, she knew she would be devastated and ruined.

So the tiny part inside of her that wished to spill all of her feelings to him stayed silent for fear of losing him. No one, not even Vegeta, could know her true feelings or that he was the father of this child.

“You do not seem fine,” he observed. “When do you leave on this trip?”

“In a few days,” she answered.

“And what brought this on?” he asked, trying not to sound jealous.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. Truly she didn’t. While she had been the one to tell him she wanted to go, it had been his idea and it still struck her as odd. “He wants to take me on a second honeymoon or something,”

“Or something?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yea,” she nodded. “I don’t know… He says he feels bad for everything that happened. Before you and I started… you know, he said he’d try to make things right one day and I told him I’d let him. I meant it at the time, but now… And I can’t very well tell him no,”

“I suppose not,” he agreed, though he was not happy that she was going away.  “I hope you have a good time,”

“Really?” she asked, looking at him like he had grown a second head.

“Yes,” he shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because…”

“While I wish more than anything that it was me that was taking you someplace on vacation, that is not possible for us and I do not wish for you to have a terrible time,” he clarified. “Maybe this will be a good thing for you,”

“How do you mean?” She asked, her stomach sinking in dread.

“Maybe he will finally step up and make an attempt to be the attentive husband you deserve.” He said, though in his heart he didn’t mean it. If that happened, then he would lose her. However, maybe it was time they moved on. The longer they carried on, the worse the inevitable fall out would be. As it was, if she and Yamcha reconciled on this vacation, it would be extremely difficult for him to simply dismiss the last several months as nothing.

“Maybe,” she agreed. “But then what about us?”

Vegeta sighed and shrugged. “I do not know,” he answered honestly. “What I do know is we are both fortunate that we have been playing at this for as long as we have without discovery. Maybe it is time we quit while we are ahead,”

Bulma swallowed hard at his words. That wasn’t what she had wanted to hear, even though she knew that he was absolutely right. They had been lucky for the most part, with the exception of her pregnancy; which she absolutely could not tell him about. If that was how he felt, then she knew she’d made the right decision in keeping it to herself and finding a way to make Yamcha believe it was his child.

“We will revisit it when you return,” he said quietly. “It will not be easy for me to simply walk away from you either.”

“It sure sounds like it is,” she said bitterly, trying to not let herself get emotional.

“Well it will not,” he said firmly. “I… I hope the best for you and him, even though a part of me selfishly hopes nothing changes.”

“Why?” She asked.

“Because you deserve to be happy even if it is with him, however I cannot give you what you deserve without ruining you,” he admitted and it was the most sentimental thing he’d ever said to her up to this point.

“I understand,” she nodded, feeling a little bit better, though inside she was reeling. She could not have an emotional breakdown right now, however. “I don’t know what I want either. I am so confused right now,”

Vegeta gave her a half smile and reached over to place his hand on hers, giving it a brief squeeze in a silent gesture of comfort and understanding. It was discreet and only for a split moment, but what neither of them noticed was Yamcha carefully watching their interaction as he and Raditz had come to a stop to let them catch up.

“What’s taking you two so long?” He asked, pretending he had not noticed their warm interaction.

“Why are you two in such a hurry?” Vegeta countered, speeding up his horse to meet them, leaving Bulma behind.

“I didn’t think we were,” he answered. “If I didn’t know any better I would think you were trying to keep my wife all to yourself,”

“If she weren’t your wife, I would consider it,” he replied with a cocky grin. “However, such is life. You have no need to worry. We were simply discussing your upcoming trip. I hope you both have a wonderful time.”

“Indeed, we shall,” he replied. 

The three of them parted ways shortly afterwards. Yamcha never asked Bulma about what she and Vegeta had been talking about for so long, why their gazes had seemed to linger or why he had touched her.

In his mind, this was their chance at starting over. He was determined to wine and dine her and make her forget all about Vegeta.

* * *

In three days they had left and were on a train to France, where they were to first meet the Russian Prince, Alexandra and his wife, Maria to spend a few weeks with them at a property they were leasing for the next few months.

Of course, the only thing Bulma could think about was the last train ride she had been on when she’d gone to visit her parents. Vegeta had made it memorable both on the trip there and back.

They arrived in France in the mid-afternoon where they were met by Prince Alexander and his wife, Maria and brought to the place they were staying, which was immaculate and dripping in luxury. Of course, they were sharing a room and while a part of Bulma was put out to have to be forced to keep up appearances, the other part of her thought this was a good thing; get that out of the way as soon as possible so that maybe she _could_ enjoy some of this trip.

Maria was very nice, Bulma really liked her. They had dinner that evening at a very fancy, high class restaurant. The two couples enjoyed their dinner and departed after their dessert for a dance that was happening not far from where they’d had their meal.

Bulma hoped that since they were on vacation with another couple and had to at least attempt to keep up appearances, Yamcha might not leave her behind all night and actually dance with her; she already missed Vegeta and subconsciously found herself scanning the room in search of him even though she knew he was not there.

After dancing with her twice, likely because Alexander and his wife were dancing, Yamcha and Alexander disappeared on one of the ginormous balconies with some of the other men for whiskey and cigars.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Maria asked her as they both took a seat at one of the empty tables surrounding the dance hall.

“I am,” Bulma nodded. “Thanks again so much for having us,”

“It is our pleasure!” she smiled. “I was so upset with Yamcha for not bringing you with him the last time we saw him. I am not sure what he was thinking, leaving his new bride home all alone so soon after your wedding! If we had known he was not comfortable bringing you, we would have rescheduled things; my deepest apologies.”

“That’s quite alright,” Bulma said and she felt both validated and quite moved that this woman seemed to agree with her! “My husband takes his political aspirations very seriously,”

“Yes, he does, but there is more to life than just work,” she agreed. “A new marriage is as much a full time job as any other occupation,”

“It is,” Bulma nodded.

“How are you doing?” Maria asked. “My apologies if that seems forward, I realize we barely know one another, however I feel already as though we will be great friends.”

“I am well,” she said. “I think we are both in need of some downtime. He has been working so very hard that it has been difficult balancing work and a family life.”

“I’ll bet it has,” she agreed. “I know that Yamcha is not used to having a family life; he’s been on his own for so long, I hope he has not inadvertently neglected you,”

“Yes well,” Bulma shrugged, unsure of how to answer that if she should. She wasn’t entirely certain she could trust this woman, though she seemed sincere. “It’s been difficult at times, but that is why he is taking a break and we are on this vacation.”

“An excellent idea!” she beamed. “It just frightens me so much that he leaves you alone so much for so long. You are young and beautiful, I am sure there are many temptations where you are and loneliness can make people do things they normally would not do,”

Bulma felt almost as though the wind had been knocked out of her by that statement. Did she know? Had Yamcha sent her to see if she could find anything incriminating or was she simply letting her guilt make her paranoid? “I actually do not leave the house very much,” she admitted and it was true, she didn’t. Not without a reason given to Baba that she was going shopping or for a ride on the beach; Baba didn’t need to know that Vegeta happened to appear wherever she went. “I don’t know very many people. I know Yamcha would like for me to go out to more parties and social functions when he is away, but I just don’t like going alone,”

“I understand that,” she nodded. “I hate going to events like these unless there is another couple to accompany us. Alexander, bless his heart, always ends up elsewhere and I end up by myself. I am quite shy.”

“So am I,” Bulma smiled, feeling comfortable that this woman truly meant well and wasn’t looking for information to take back to her husband.

Bulma had refrained from drinking as much as possible. She slowly nursed her drinks and drank plenty of water. They returned back to the home in the early hours of the morning, Yamcha so inebriated that he could barely walk and Bulma decided that this was her chance.

She helped him undress and climb into bed. Fortunately he was so drunk, he did not object to her not grabbing his night pants and was passed out before she had a chance to begin undressing herself. 

It had been easy and she herself crawled into bed naked beside him. Tired because of the late hour, she fell asleep quickly, hoping for the best when she awoke the next morning.  If she could convince him that they had drunkenly engaged this evening, that was all she needed to make him believe that she was indeed pregnant with his child. She only hoped she could time it properly so as to inform him _before_ she began to show.

* * *

 

Vegeta was in a foul mood and decided to clean his guns and then do some target practice. Bulma had been gone for three weeks by this time and try as he might to pretend that he did not miss her terribly, he finally had to admit that he did. He missed her very much. It surprised him.

“What are your plans for the day?” Lazuli asked, waltzing into his study room casually.

Vegeta held up a piece of the gun he was cleaning. “I’ve got nothing else to do,”

“That’s right,” she chuckled. “Bulma and Yamcha are still away, aren’t they?”

“They are,” he confirmed.

“I can’t believe you are still messing around with her,” Lazuli snorted. Usually when he had a prolonged affair with someone it was over within a few weeks or a month at the most, as it was the chase and initial seduction that gave him a thrill. If he happened to really like her, he may continue to see her for a week afterwards, _two_ at the most before breaking it off and moving on. This though, this had been going on for upwards of eight months. While she didn’t like it, she had made a point of keeping a low profile.

He had been extremely angry with her the morning at the shooting range and she knew better than to push her luck. Initially she had found it amusing that he had been that irate with her over a simple prank. She’d also assumed that it would have frightened Bulma off from going near him again, however that hadn’t deterred her for long.

“I am not finished with her yet,” he commented casually as he continued cleaning his guns.

“Why not?” She scoffed.

“I do not know,” he replied honestly. He _didn’t_ know. He knew this thing should have run its course months ago, yet every time he thought of ending it with her, he felt agitated and bothered by the thought and would not think of it again until common sense kicked in, warning him that the longer this went on, the higher the chance they would be eventually discovered.

“You’ve at least been seeing other girls on the side to occupy your time while they’ve been gone or while her husband is home, right?” She asked condescendingly. “You don’t honestly expect me to believe you’ve only been seeing her and no one else.”

“Believe what you want,” he replied, not looking up from his gun.

“ _Wow!_ You _are_ being loyal to her,” she mocked him. “I’m not sure if that’s amusing or if I should be offended.”

Vegeta did not say anything.

“Is she _that_ good?” She asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity, sitting across from him. “Maybe I made a mistake in overlooking her,”

“You’ll have nothing to do with her,” he said curtly in a warning tone that told her it was not up for debate. Bulma was apparently off limits.

“Fair enough,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “You wouldn’t even want _me_ to join you two one of these days and make it a little more _interesting_?”

“Absolutely not.” He replied without hesitation.

“Well that’s no fun,” she pouted. “Since when are you such a prude? Sounds like she’s domesticating you or something. The Vegeta _I_ know wouldn’t ever let such a thing happen.”

He didn’t reply, taking her words to mind. What _was_ happening to him? Lazuli was correct. While he had no interest in bedding anyone else or asking her to accompany he and Bulma, it was odd that he hadn’t bored of her yet. Where was the man who had no interest in long term commitment and shunned monogamy?

“Suit yourself,” she sighed. “ _I_ have plans for the evening.”

“Lucky you,” he commented aloofly. “I will be staying in for the evening.”

“You’re not even going to ask with who?” She asked with a frown.

“ _Fine_ ,” he barked in annoyance, knowing that if he didn’t humor her she would begin to get pissy with him. At one time, they both loved bragging to one another about their conquests; it had fueled something between them and had been like an aphrodisiac. Since he had started seeing Bulma, however, he found that he did not care who Lazuli fraternized with, nor did he find it a turn on to hear about it anymore. “Who is the lucky one tonight?”

 _“_ I am _so_ glad you asked, as it could benefit you as well,” she replied in a sing song tone. “You know that new rich guy who just moved not so long ago, Count Cell?”

“Hmmm,” he grunted. He had offered Vegeta a job to assassinate an emperor several months back, but he’d been far too cheap to pay Vegeta his asking price and so he had passed on the job. He thought the man was pompous and arrogant and hadn’t given him a second thought since then.

“Well, _apparently_ he cheated Lapis at a card game a few weeks ago, so I’m going to seduce and distract him while Lapis is going to _break in_ tie us both up-”

“I do not wish to hear the rest,” he sighed in boredom.

“Oh come _on_ , Vegeta! Even _I_ am not quite _that_ depraved,” she giggled. “Though it would make it seem more authentic if Lapis seemingly _did_ assault me…”

“If you end up fucking your brother in this grand wild scheme of yours, I do not wish to know of it,” he growled in disgust. Even he had his limits. “As it is, you should not be meddling in your twisted brother’s affairs.”

She shrugged. “It will be fine.”

“One of these days you two will mess with the wrong person,” he advised her.

“You’re paranoid,” she snorted. “We’ve been doing this for years.”

“Exactly and so eventually you both will either choose the wrong person or you’ll get sloppy. Either way, I do not wish to be implicated,” he said and then remembered she had said there was something in this for him as well. “How is this to benefit me?”

“We’re robbing him and you were out of a job because of him so… I get a take in whatever Lapis gets. I’m guessing it will be a whole lot more than whatever your asking rate is. 

“Hmmmn,” he grunted. “Just be extremely careful. I do not trust him.”

“I always am,” she rolled her eyes. It annoyed her how protective he sometimes was. She knew most girls probably loved that, but she was able to handle herself and didn’t need chivalry, nor did she find it attractive. “See you tomorrow. I’ll turn in to my own quarters when I get in.”

“Hmmmn,” he grunted as she left.

As he sat there in silence thinking about their conversation, a thought occurred to him. He was _tired_ of their lifestyle. There was no thrill to it anymore. He’d bedded he wasn’t sure how many countless women and it wasn’t exciting anymore. Maybe that was why he was content to remain with Bulma instead of ditching her and moving on to some other young, naïve girl. He thought of asking Lazuli if she felt the same way; that maybe it was time for them both to grow up and settle down, but then that meant giving up Bulma and he knew he was ready to do that yet.

As he thought of her, he could not supress the thoughts of jealousy that were coursing through his mind at the thought that she was currently on a vacation with Yamcha, her _husband_. He snorted at that. Husband merely on paper, not in the true sense of the meaning. For a moment he let his mind drift and muse about where he’d take Bulma if he was able.

He would likely start in Amsterdam; taker her to some scandalous show that would have her blushing purple from sheer embarrassment, he thought with a grin as he continued to clean his gun. He _loved_ how naïve she was in that aspect because she was innocent, not because she was a prude. It amused him and it was one of the most endearing things about her. From there, he would take her to Belgium and buy her only the most exquisite chocolate and then to France where he would buy her the most luxurious and scandalous lingerie. Of course, they would stay in only the finest hotels and travel first class by train and they would make love traveling from one destination to the next…

His fantasy came to an abrupt halt right then.

Since when was it _making love_ and not _fucking_ , he wondered with a frown.

At that, he stood up, took two of his guns, a bucket of ammunition and decided he needed to leave and do some target practice.

* * *

 It was nearing the end of their five week vacation and Bulma was more than ready to go home. They’d had a wonderful time, for the most part. However, no matter where they went or what they did, Bulma was still always left with a deep, heartfelt yearning for more. While Yamcha doted on and spoiled her with whatever he assumed she wanted materially, he was still distant emotionally. When she found herself happy about something or enjoying herself, she still felt like she was missing out on something crucial in their relationship that they would never have.

Their time with the Russian Prince, Alexander and his wife, Maria only made her realize everything that was missing in their marriage and despite her strong feelings for Vegeta not wavering, a part of her had hoped that just maybe their presence might influence Yamcha in the right way; it did not.

The morning after he had gone to bed drunk their first night in France, he had been extremely agitated by the thought that they had been intimate; he’d even _apologized_ for his behaviour, much to her confusion despite her telling him that she was quite alright with what had taken place. His reaction had been so strong that if Bulma hadn’t been so desperate for a solution to _need_ him to believe that they had been intimate, she would have felt not only awful about deceiving him in such a manner, but grossly offended that the thought of being intimate with her was apparently _that_ repulsive to him.

The following evening she had been certain that he was going to instigate something intimate with her, if only out of obligation; she had turned in early, having been very tired from both her pregnancy and being up so late the previous evening. He had come to bed, sober with his newspaper. They discussed some of the current events that were going on in the local area and compared the political situation between France and their home in Germany. When he was ready to go to sleep, he had initiated a few well meaning, though half-hearted caresses. Bulma had tolerated it, though did not overly reciprocate for fear of being rejected by him. If he truly wanted to finally cross that line, she wanted him to work for it; she was done begging for it from him.

Instead of trying to confirm his intentions to her, he seemingly changed his mind and settled for simply holding her and Bulma came to the acceptance that this was all that their life together would ever be. Yamcha was kind and good natured, but he was not a lover; or he wasn’t with her. If she didn’t have Vegeta, that would have broken her heart and she only hoped that she still had him when they returned from this failed attempt at a second honeymoon.

After spending a week and a half in France with the Prince Alexander and Maria, they’d moved on to Italy. No matter where they went, she still felt as though they were friends, not lovers or marriage mates, even though he had told her a few occasions during a romantic meal here and there that he loved her.

Bulma always responded sweetly and confirmed the sentiment, yet she didn’t feel it from him. She felt like he thought he had the feeling that he loved her and he was trying to project that, but for some reason he didn’t feel the need to put in any special effort other than the odd caress or word of affection when he thought it was what she wanted from him, not because she felt he was being sincere.

It was nothing like what she had with Vegeta and that was likely only physical and nothing more; on his end, anyway. Though if Vegeta didn’t reciprocate her feelings, he at least made her feel like he did when they were together and he made her feel like she was special instead of a chore. She felt awful at times for constantly comparing Yamcha to Vegeta, but it wasn’t because she was being unkind or overly critical, it was because she was looking for any reason to find an emotional connection with Yamcha to hold on to so she _could try_ to make things right.

Yes, they got along; yes they were friends, but that was all they were and likely all they ever would be.

It was in the last two weeks of their trip that she finally mentioned to him her suspicions that she was pregnant. Based on his reaction the morning after their supposed intimate encounter, she had been afraid to tell him and that had been why she hadn’t told him sooner, but her plan had been to tell him before they made it home.

He had surprised her, however. Yamcha was over the moon excited when he heard the news. He’d made sure she’d written her parents to tell them the news and he’d sent word to Baba and Roshi to begin making preparations for the new arrival. It was the first time since they’d been married that he seemed truly, sincerely happy instead of putting on a front to her and everyone else.

Confident that everything would be alright, Bulma allowed herself to relax and enjoy the rest of her vacation, though in the back of her mind, she did worry about Vegeta’s reaction to the news. Would he be happy for her or would he feel betrayed? Either way, she was glad that she had something else to think about instead of her guilt and everything that was wrong in her life.

She was about to become a mother and the thought both thrilled and terrified her, but she would do her best to ensure this child not only felt loved, but if Vegeta did not cast her aside, because who wanted a pregnant mistress; she would like for the child to at least know him, even though he or she could never know that he was their real father.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued!!!
> 
> Thank you for reading! I’m sorry I was unable to complete all of this story before the deadline. Part two of this story will be posted soon! (I need to get back to Butterflies and Hurricanes as well…) Please be sure to check out the other Big Bang submissions. They can be found under the collection Vegebulocracy’s Big Bang 2018 (If you didn't know and are looking for more awesome Vegebul fics. ;) ). There are some absolutely amazing and wonderful artist/writer pairings that I myself cannot wait to read them all! 
> 
> Huge thank you to my artist Sbubbia for creating such beautiful art work for this project! I’m thrilled with her work! I hope to collaborate with her again to commission some work for some of my other stories. Go check her out on Tumblr! And a big thank you to BulmaseekingVegeta for beta-ing my work!!! I truly appreciated your thoughts and feedback!


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